Oh, Please A Cato Story
by salanderjade
Summary: Winning the Hunger Games is his destiny. He has been trained for it since birth. He will accept nothing less than total victory. He didn't count on two things: meeting the girl of his dreams or finding an ally with the same goal-both want to save the girl he loves. Major AU within the 74th Hunger Games. Some source material changed to fit story. Read & review.
1. Chapter 1

Oh, Please

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

A/N This idea has been on hold while Heart of Ice, Soul of Fire is in progress. However, I had a request/call out for a decent Cato from a reader. Cato hasn't been a very good boy in HoI, Sof. This idea really took hold so I modified the original idea for Oh, Please to bring in a completely new side to Cato. Shinigami, I do hope this is what you had in mind, my friend. Crossing fingers**

Part 1: Star-Crossed Lovers

The teeth cut me like a thousand needles. They won't leave me alone, circling around before coming back in for another hit. The smallest one worries with my foot, whining in impatience when it fails to reach the flesh that lies just tantalizingly out of reach. The armor is still good for something at least. I lunge with the last of my knives and am rewarded with a startled yelp and a fresh spray of blood. One more down. I am too far gone to try and remember how many are left. It doesn't matter. I will be dead by morning. If the pack doesn't kill me, my heart surely will. I have failed her. I have broken my promise to the only person in the world I ever cared about keeping my word to. I had vowed to keep her safe. I had declared that I would die before letting anything happen to her. When she had needed me the most, I let her down.

It had all seemed so simple at the beginning. I volunteered because it was expected of me. The son of a former Victor and daughter of a high-ranking Capital official was required to behave in a certain manner. Volunteer and win a Hunger Games. Acquire the fine house and all the trappings that came with it in the Victor Village. Forge alliances with the Capital elite for my family. Impress President Snow with my demeanor and acumen enough to be offered a place in the Presidential cabinet. Even marriage to one of the President's many granddaughters or nieces wasn't out of the question. I just had to toe the line and do what I had been trained to do. I had to win. I never expected that everything would fall apart because I lost my heart at the worst possible time in the worst possible place. Damn Fate anyway.

Another pair of claws rakes down my stomach, attempting to disembowel my prone form. I roll, arm swinging out and feel my fist connect. I groan, feeling the razor sharp teeth close hard on my unarmored hand. I close my fist tightly around the knife hilt, knowing that any chance of salvation rests firmly upon that blade. A spasm shakes my fingers as the teeth clamp tightly down. Blood poured out, further loosening my grip. I clutch the hilt as firmly as the trembling fingers allow then shrieks a denial as I feel it slide from my grasp. I feel the inevitable approach of death as the mutt jerks back at the sound of the metal striking the ground. It noses the cold blade then realizes that the last defense has been breached. A sound from above causes both of us to halt. I raise my gaze painfully and see them silhouetted against the faint moonlight. There was my last, best chance to end this quickly and decisively.

I see Peeta recoil when our gazes meet. If I could smile, then I would have. This boy has no business being in this Arena. He is too good. He lacks the capacity for the animalistic reactions required to be a Victor. He is the only person that I have come in contact with who has the ability to look for good in everyone he meets. He had attached himself to the Career pack with the sole intention of protecting the girl he loves. I know that now. I can even understand that motivation. Hadn't I done the same thing, made the same vow just a few days ago? I understand the fire that burnt in Peeta Mellark's gaze whenever he looks at Katniss Everdeen. It is love, pure and simple. I would have scoffed before if asked that love could create such devotion in a heart that a person would willingly die to protect the object of that love. I would have sneered at the notion that the wellbeing of another person could so completely override the self-preservation instincts so naturally ingrained. I would have mocked the obvious weakness of such a person. Now, I can only marvel at how similar I am to the boy looking down at me with such sympathetic eyes.

Katniss steps into my line of vision, her bow clasped in her hand. Her eyes widen in horror as she beholds the sight of my ravaged face. She exchanges a painful glance with Peeta, who takes a moment to carefully brush her hair away from her face in a comforting gesture. I briefly hear, "My last arrow is in your tourniquet." Peeta kneels down and something gleams silver in the moonlight as he straightens back up.

"Make it count." Peeta says quietly and hands over what is obviously an arrow. She takes it and bends just long enough to fuss with a cloth tied tightly around his leg. She rubs her hands together, slapping and wringing the fingers to increase the blood flow. Finally, she nocks the arrow and steps to the edge of the golden horn upon which they are perched. Peeta slides an arm around her waist to support her as she leans over trying to get the best angle for the shot.

My eyes meet hers again and with the last of my strength, I gasp out, "Please." I see a look of pity cross her features as she lets the arrow fly. Before the blackness claims me, I let my thanks well up. I let go, leaving the star-crossed lovers of District 12 to decide between them who the final Victor will be. My last thoughts are to wish that Peeta doesn't have to experience what I went through. I hope he doesn't have to watch the one he loves die. He deserves better than that, my compassionate friend. I fall into the dark, followed by a pair of green eyes and golden flowing hair.

End Part 1

A/N Please review and let me know what you think. This is probably going to be another multi-chapter extravaganza. Help me, Lord. The first person thing is a complete surprise too but that point of view works best for the story I have in mind. I would love it if you stop by with a review and let me know what you think. Until next time, Salanderjade


	2. The Tribute Parade

Oh, Please a Cato Story

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Suzanne Collins does.

Part 2: The Tribute Parade

They line us up by district. Each group of us will be transported by chariot. I suppose that we look like returning heroes from some conquering army instead of lambs, dressed up and painted, walking meekly to the slaughterhouse. I can't help but want to laugh at the hordes that surround the City Circle. Mindless sheep that flock here not for riches or power but to be see and be seen. The whole purpose of these Games is to keep the Districts under heel so that these decorated, plastic people can continue to enjoy the spoils of a victory that most were not even alive to see.

I glance down briefly at my costume, feeling disgust well up in me at the parody I have become. The golden winged helmet and faux armor fits as if tailor made for me. I suppose that it was. The stylist for District 2 has kept a similar theme for years. We are always presented as soldiers, usually an elite band who won great victories in that distant past. Viking, Roman, Spartan, or Panem...it is the same. We are the arms that the Capital uses to keep the Districts under control. Clove, my District partner, looks almost weighted down by the ridiculous garb. Her fierce expression is undercut by her girlish appearance. She's tiny, petite, and despite her scowl and prowess with a knife, she looks about as threatening as a gnat. We will traditionally be allies until the deadwood is cleared away. Regardless, I hope that I don't have to kill her. It would be about as challenging as stepping on an ant hill and watching them scatter. Besides, her brother was my best friend at the Academy. Even though she volunteered, Cage wouldn't forgive me if I shed his sister's blood. There are standards even in District 2 when it comes to these Games.

Before the trumpets sound to officially open up the processional, I look around at my fellow Tributes to get an idea about who I will need to focus on once the seconds tick down. It will become clearer once we are in training but I've been taught that first impressions are usually correct if you take the time to gather all the data you can. District 3 doesn't inspire any strong opinions. They are the suppliers of all electronic gadgets in Panem so it might bear to keep them in mind. You never know what the terrain will be or what type of weaponry will be available in the Cornucopia. District 4 is negligible. The redhead from District 5 causes me to pause. She doesn't look panicked. Instead, she is studying the others in much the same manner that I am. She is small with a delicate foxlike appearance. I make a note to watch her in the opening rounds. She might be sneaky like the tribute from District 7 a few years back who played weak and timid but turned out to be a vicious killer. I don't get that vibe from this girl but resolve she is one that I will watch.

I skip over 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. There is nothing to that stands out for either of these. District 11 is something of an enigma. The boy is massive. He is taller than me by at least half a head. His arms are thick with muscles gained through long hours of labor in the orchards and fields. He will be able to go a long distance and his strength will be exceptional. He looks to be my greatest competition as the Games drag on. The girl is a small twelve year old runt. She looks like a bird, poised up on her toes. Her arms are held back and away from her sides. She looks like she will spring into flight at any moment. She's no threat, just one more number to keep track of until her cannon fires.

District 12 is garbed in flat black from head-to-toe, a fluttering cape of orange, yellow and red billows out behind them. The girl's dark hair is held away from her face by a matching headdress that twines about her head. I watch in interest as their stylist approaches with a torch and comments, "You're not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?" Fire? What does fire have to do with the coal mines of District 12? Clearly, this is the year that they have decided to break tradition. I'm almost disappointed that I won't get to see the show. They will be coming in behind our chariot and it will be difficult to look at anyone but the crowd once we are in the City.

I need to be thinking about the sponsors and less about the costume details of an insignificant district from the back end of nowhere. I notice the boy from District 12 glaring at me. No pun intended, but there is some heat behind the look. I can only guess that he has some sort of attachment to the girl who came here with him. That kind of possessiveness can't be for any other reason. I let a cocky grin quirk my lips up and raise a questioning eyebrow in his direction. I am rewarded by a flush that lights his face almost the same color as the cape fluttering behind him.

I deliberately return my eyes back to the girl. Her suit is made to fit her form. It's really nothing special. She's slight and compact. The suit while contoured to her shape shows how delicate her limbs are. She catches me looking and shoots me a glare. It is the kind of glare that Clove only wishes that she had. All the fury and contempt that tiny form is capable of shines like quicksilver out of steely gray eyes. Thin lips press together until they practically disappear. She flicks a disparaging glance at me then turns away as if I'm beneath her notice. I feel my temper ignite. Who does this piece of rabble think she is? My fist clinches in spite of myself and I curse for letting her provoke a visible reaction from me.

A quiet snort of laughter draws my attention back to the other half of the coal doused pair. The boy is hiding a smile behind his hand as he glances from me to his chariot mate. His blue eyes glow with barely restrained glee. Clearly, he has seen her distained perusal of me and is amused by it. I narrow my eyes at him and give him my most challenging stare. His reaction surprises me. He glances back at the girl who is equally ignoring everyone, her eyes fixed firmly on the dangling banners overhead then back to me. A smile once more plays about his lips. It looks like he is proud of her temerity. He has seen her face me down and is emboldened by her defiance. The torch is touched to first one cape then the other. I gasp as flames shoot up to wreathe their faces, playing off of the head dresses and trailing behind them in tongues of fire.

The anthem interrupts my fascinated examination of this spectacle. Nothing like these two has ever been seen. Not in any Games that I can remember. The sponsors will be falling all over themselves to sign them. I square my shoulders and move my feet until I have achieved the balanced stance I had been taught since I first was able to stand without assistance. I see Clove mirror me and smile inwardly at the dominant l image we are no doubt portraying. We don't need fancy gimmicks or a staged entrance. We are powerful, formidable, and commanding. We are District 2 tributes. We don't have to win. We are champions. We just have to bide our time until we can claim what is ours by right.

The roar goes up for District 1 as the first chariot comes into view of the City Center horde. A shower of flowers, trinkets, and confetti rain down in a continuous flood. My eyes are drawn to the chariot as it passes under the hot glow of the lights surrounding the pathway my horses will soon traverse. District 1 is pulled by snow white horses. They are doused in silver, with jewel toned tunics that refract the light into a million sparkles. The boy, I notice, is wiry and lean. He moves with catlike precision, strength evident even in the waves and flourishes that he sends toward the crowd. It is the girl who gives me pause, more than pause. She stops my breath. The silver swirls glistening on her gold cast skin accentuate lush curves. Her eyes, wreathed in gleaming, jewel toned dust, glow like emeralds. Her hair shimmers in the harsh white glare of the spotlights. She waves to the crowd, daintily catching a tossed rose. She kisses it then tosses it back. The throng quickly tears it to bits as they scramble for a tiny fragment touched by this incandescent creature.

She glances back and catches my regard. I see her face flush scarlet under the silver paint and feel an answering ruddiness tint my cheeks in return. Mentally, I shake myself free of the stupor I've fallen into and raise my hard to acknowledge the accolades that District 2 tributes inevitably excite from the Capital multitude. My gaze inexorably goes back to the festooned girl in front of me as if drawn by a magnet.

As the music ends, I see the eleven other chariots draw up into a loose semi-circle facing President Snow's residence. I catch the azure-eyed gaze of the boy from District 12 once more. He looks from District 1 to me and the same sardonic half-smile crawls its way onto his face once more. He tips me a mocking nod then turns his attention to the podium where Snow is making his traditional welcoming remarks. I continue to watch District 12, quietly contemplating exactly how I will wipe that grin off his face once we meet at the Cornucopia. We will see whose smiling then?


	3. The Training Center

Oh, Please A Cato Story

A/N Okay…so I have totally been lazy on this story. My apologies to anyone who has been reading this story and waiting for an update. I have no excuse except for Darth Real Life…but anywho…here's part 3.

Part 3: The Training Center

We have been instructed to meet in the training room at ten o'clock. I get there with about five minutes to spare, Clove hard on my heels. We are met at the door and get the number 2 pinned to our backs. Everyone clusters into pods of two waiting to see what exactly we are supposed to do. Rather than waste time looking aimlessly around, I wander over to the weapons racks to examine the virtual feast they have laid out for us.

My eyes are drawn automatically to the array of swords. They vary in edge, heft, length, and weight. I immediately pick out a short, double edged blade with a tapered, molded hilt. It is a twin to the weapon I carry back home in District 2. My fingers itch to grasp the hilt and see if the weight and balance is as perfect as it promises. I am interrupted as one of the trainers steps forward and begins to outline the rules for the training rooms. No combat with other tributes, visit the stations of your choice depending on your mentor's advice, don't overlook the survival skills. I snort quietly to myself at this little tidbit. Win the Cornucopia and you will have all the supplies that you could ever need. Win the Cornucopia and sponsors will fall all over themselves to sign you. I decide to head for the swords and leave the rest to stumble around as they will. Clove heads straight to the knife throwing station. She immediately becomes absorbed in the abundance and variety she finds there.

I pick up the short sword, its balance seemingly crafted for my hand alone. Spinning it in a series of tight loops, I engage one of the training dummies set aside for this sort of exercise. I duck and parry, the sword moving as an extension of my arm. Quickly reversing my stance, I spin and feel the resistance as the blade connects then severs the neck of the now deceased dummy. Pulling the blade around in a taut ark, I finish with a sharp thrust to the heart. In my head, the cannon fires and I tick one more tribute off my mental list. Satisfied, I replace the sword in the rack and look around. Clove has garnered an audience. She gives a textbook demonstration of the fine art of knife fighting. She hits the target silhouette directly in center mass with both an overhanded and underhanded throw. The truly impressive sight is when she spins, throwing from the hip and still manages a killing blow. She is tiny but the odds are definitely in her favor when a blade is within reaching distance. I sign, knowing that more than likely I will have to kill her. Alliances are expected and encouraged but in the end there can only be one Victor. That will be me.

Most of the others don't interest me. The boy from one appears to favor the spear. He manages to throw it accurately from an impressive distance. Since tributes from our districts traditionally team up, I watch his next throw and give him a respectful nod when it sails fifteen feet to pierce the dummy directly in the center of the kill zone. He returns the salute, eyes weighing and measuring. I feel my lip curl and try to mask the contempt under the guise of smiling sociably. I could kill him a dozen ways before he could even raise that spear. He needs distance to maneuver whereas I can get in close and force the fight with either my blade or hand-to-hand. His slim form won't give him much of an advantage in tight quarters. His weapon choice doesn't leave him many options if his first strike misses. I decide to reserve opinion until I see how he handles himself at the other stations. Gather all the data before forming an opinion.

The boy from eleven has procured a hand-held scythe and is wielding it as though it were grafted to his arm. The training dummy shudders and recoils from the massive strikes he levels against it. He uses each part of the weapon, hitting with the thick handle, a massive blow from the flat side of the blade, the finishing sweep sends the head arching over the training center. It lands with a thud, bouncing several times before coming to rest by the camouflage station. He stares after it then moves on to the fire building station, leaving the head lying where it landed.

Watching this has inadvertently brought my attention back to the surly girl from twelve and her blond companion. They have spent most of the morning in the knot tying station of all places. She seemed to know a little bit about snares and is following the instructor with ease as he demonstrates a basic trap to catch an unsuspecting leg or arm. He, however, gives the impression that he is there strictly to humor his associate. His knot tying ability appears to be strictly confined to the laces of his shoes. Eventually, they move on to the camouflage station and here is where his proficiency becomes clear.

Exactly why it caught my attention, I couldn't say. I prefer a straight out fight rather than relying on concealment and stealth. I have no interest or knowledge of the skills required to successfully disguise yourself or obscure the fact that you have been in a particular spot. However, watching him work with the various vines and mud piqued my curiosity and I stand back and watch as he works his magic on his arm. The girl stares critically at his design, and I overhear something about cakes and frosting. I tune out their distracting chatter, and stare fixedly at the pattern he's manufactured with just a combination of berry juice and clay. It looks like leaves in sunlight. The dark and light patches overlap and seem to flow one into the other. "It's lovely if only you could frost someone to death," she says somewhat caustically. I don't catch his reply, but she moves on to the spear throwing station leaving him to resume his shading and detail work.

He must have felt me watching him because his azure gaze swings up and intersects with mine. He doesn't say anything but does quirk an inquiring eyebrow in my direction. By tradition, tributes from my district don't go out of their way to associate with the others. We aren't here to make friends. But for some unknown reason, I am riveted by his display of skill in this unacknowledged area. Since I don't comment, he turns his attention back to the details on his arm. He switches to a different vine and adds a touch of mud and dab of dark juice from one of the berries. The resulting green-black shade will be indistinguishable in a dark mossy copse or low standing thicket.

His gaze flicks up to meet mine again and he wordlessly shifts his materials over to give me room. He sets a few of the various pigments aside and then bends back to his work. I match his silence and pull the materials toward me, my eyes following as he continues to mix and daub assorted combinations. He layers them carefully, filling in more and more detail as he goes. I mimic his motions and mixtures, and soon my arm is a jumble of dark and light. While not as artistic as his, mine blends in with the background provided as a training aide. He still doesn't speak but a faint smile creases his mouth as he examines my work.

"Peeta," a low feminine voice breaks the silence. "Are you done?" I look up into her steel gray eyes and feel a faint pink climb my face at her perusal. My inadvertent teacher calmly sloughs off the layers he had painstakingly assembled and nods. His gaze touches mine and he dips his head before following her to the knife station. Their voices are too low to carry but I can tell she is giving him the rough side of her tongue. He shakes his head and gestures, obviously explaining. She rolls her eyes and then turns her attention to the assortment of blades. The trainer whispers a few words and then leads her to a particular case. Peeta glances back briefly catching my eye. His mouth quirks up and he tilts his head, clearly saying, "What can you do?" I give an appreciative snort before I can stop myself. His face breaks into a quick grin then he joins her at the targets.

I wash the debris off my arm and continue around the room to see what else catches my eye. My method seems to be paying off. I have already picked up on several unexpected strengths and exploitable weaknesses from my fellow tributes. The more knowledge I can gather, the easier the Arena will be. My thoughts continue to center on the camouflage station. What other surprises could be coaxed from the simple materials? I make a mental note to return to that station tomorrow. It doesn't hurt to be prepared for all contingencies.

I spy a blond ponytail at the archery station. She still gleams like the sun even in the dark confines of the training room. She has procured a bow and quiver and is setting up for a target run. I stand just outside the station confines and watch as she readies herself. It is immediately apparent that she has never handled a bow before. The trainer corrects her stance and hand position. He shifts her fingers until the arrow lays steady and straight, the nock taut against the string. She pulls back and steadies her aim before letting the arrow fly. The ensuing howl brings a sympathetic wince to my face. Before the trainer could move, I step forward and grasp her wrist to inspect the resulting bruise. The string had caught her squarely. A long red welt mars the porcelain skin surrounded by a purple-red bruise. It will be spectacular in the morning.

"You need to bend your elbow more," I rasp out as I turn her wrist to get a closer look. "The recoil will get you every time if you don't."

She pulls her arm away, emerald eyes suspicious and guarded. "I can't keep the arrow seated if I bend it anymore." She states. "It slips off the string."

"Wrong arm, honey," I drawl out while my hands position hers correctly on the bow. She resumes her stance and pulls back. I tap the elbow of the arm holding the bow and she obediently crooks it farther out. The arrow flies true and hits neatly in the center of the target. "Nice shot." I offer and turn away, my heart pounding in my chest. I need an immediate distraction before I make a complete fool out of myself. I feel like I've been running all morning at top speed and can't catch my breath.

"Thank you," I hear grudgingly behind me. I turn back before catching myself and she gives me a funny little half-smile almost like she is uncomfortable with the expression. I can only nod my head briefly, not trusting my voice to articulate the words. Across the room, my eyes meet those of Peeta Mellark again. He raises that questioning brow at me again, an odd little smirk playing about his lips. I tilt my head, a mirror image of the nod he gave me earlier and shrugged, "What can you do?" I hear his laughter across the training floor and allow myself a smile of my own. I've changed my mind about him. Maybe, just maybe I won't wipe that smile off his face just yet.

End Part 3

A/N Updates on this one will be slower than usual until I get Heart of Ice, Soul of Fire wound down. I'm not talented enough to have two stories rolling at once. Hope you enjoyed part 3.


	4. The Interview

Oh, Please A Cato Story

A/N This chapter is dedicated to Miss Mustang and Rarobin, without whom this chapter couldn't have been written. Ladies, your help was invaluable and greatly appreciated.

CHAPTER 4: THE INTERVIEW

We're brought into the room arranged by district yet again for the interviews with Caesar Flickerman. We've spent the last two days being drilled by our mentor on how we will be presented to the Capital on this special occasion. Being from District Two, I know that I will be shown as a trained, bloodthirsty killer. That's what the Capital expects, so that is what I will give them. I straighten my jacket and glance around to see if my fellow tributes will manage to surprise me tonight. I don't expect that will be the case but it's best to be prepared.

They put us in one arcing row so that we may watch each tribute take their three minutes with Caesar. I take my seat, still looking around and catch the eye of the dark haired girl from District 12. She's decked out in red tonight, her hair in a fancy up do of curls and braids. She gives me a dismissive look and carefully lowers herself into her chair. I smile at her just to piss her off and am rewarded by an immediate scowl as her face tints to match her dress. One point for me, I mentally congratulate myself.

I glance around looking for her constant companion and find him just now coming onstage, his expression distracted and faintly worried. He seems to be mumbling to himself as he drops into the chair next to her, barely acknowledging her presence. Someone has managed to surprise me tonight after all. I continue to watch them surreptitiously, interested in spite of myself at this change in them. She isn't very good at hiding her emotions. She too is watching him out of the corner of her eye. I see a brief flicker of hurt on her face before she pulls herself together. She schools her features into a blank mask and stares out over the auditorium as if bored. His reaction or lack of it is even more interesting than hers. He stares at his hands, lips moving silently. He stops and shakes his head then begins again. If I didn't know better I'd think he was rehearsing.

He finally catches my eye and smiles tightly. I raise a questioning eyebrow and he imperceptibly shakes his head. He looks away, his lips moving silently and is immediately lost in his own world. I can't help but snort in amusement at the sideways glances she keeps shooting him when she thinks he isn't looking. She is clearly puzzled at his inattention but trying not to show it. I look away before either of them can see me laughing.

A flash of gold from the corner of my eye garners my attention. I look around half expecting to see Caesar, but feel my jaw drop when I see the vision in front of me. She is radiant and gleaming in iridescent bronze. Her hair is pulled away from her face but allowed to flow in disarray down her mostly bare back. Her dress hides nothing, not the smallest detail. She doesn't seem to mind it, standing tall and proud as the stage hand gestures for her to take her chair. She sees me looking and grins. I refuse to back down and look away…it would make me seem weak. So I don't and that is my first mistake. Soon, I find that I can't look away. Then I realize that I don't want to. Her amused smile fades into bewildered, pink-cheeked embarrassment.

We are saved by a blast of music and the appearance of Caesar Flickerman, resplendent in his midnight blue suit studded with twinkling lights. His theme this year is powder blue which coats his eyes and lips as well as his hair. He greets us and tells us that there's nothing to be worried about. The Capital already loves us. Of course they do, I think to myself. They live for the moments they can watch us die. I clamp down on that train of thought before it can register on my face. I'm not here to die. I'm here to win. There is no other option, no other possible ending. Caesar goes to his stylist to get one last touch up and the rest of us take the opportunity to move about before being confined to these chairs for the foreseeable future.

I head for the side area where a flagon of water and cups sit patiently. I gulp down two quick glasses before the dryness in my throat abates. Hearing a shuffle behind me, I turn and my gaze collides with a waterfall of blond hair surrounding nervous emerald eyes. I smile tightly and give a small nod which she returns and then she reaches past me to procure her own drink. Her hands are shaking and the water splashes on the table surface rather than into the cup. I hear her curse quietly and can't help but grin. Who would have thought that she knew oaths like that? For the second time tonight, I've been surprised. I wordlessly take the pitcher and fill a glass, then hand it to her. Murmuring her thanks, she gulps the water then plunks the glass back onto the table. She gives me one more searching glance then returns to her seat. Mutely, I follow her absently shaking my head. What is it about this girl? Why am I spending valuable time pouring drinks and practicing drawing on my arm when I should be focusing on the Cornucopia? Why? I'm almost afraid to find out the answer to that question.

I have to pass by the others on my way back to my assigned seat. As I move past District 12, I see that he has finally stopped muttering to himself. His eyes meet mine and he gives me another of his sardonic smirks. "Break a leg," I hear him mouth quietly. I can't help but laugh in response. It's such a ridiculous thing to say, especially considering where we are and what will be going on in a few days.

I actually smile when I stop and look back at him, "Okay." I comment, letting my amusement color my voice. "Yours?" His answering laugh echoes in the relative silence of the stage. The others can't help but look to see who has actually found something funny in this of all places. He shrugs as if unbothered by the sudden curiosity surrounding us and pushes a finger under the collar of his shirt. I have to grin again because she has noticed the exchange and is giving us both quelling looks. I can't help but see her eyes lingering on him as if waiting for something. Whatever it is, she doesn't find it. Her face settles into its customary scowl and she drops her stare to the floor. He gives a funny little grimace and shakes his head. I meet his look with a questioning one of my own and he shakes his head again. The music glares signaling that my time for getting to the bottom of this particular mystery is over.

Caesar bounces on stage, ever the showman. He speaks playfully to the crowd, treating them like a group of friends. I suppose to him, they are friends. He has been the announcer for everything Hunger Games related for forty years. Finding out what Caesar's color theme is for the year is almost as big of an event as the Tribute's parade. He gets right to it and pulls Glimmer into the interview chair. She walks coquettishly and swirls the transparent folds of her skirts. The lights make her luminous, they make her shine. It's almost impossible to look at her. She grins flirtatiously at Caesar and avoids answering directly when he questions about someone special back home. I hold my breath when her eyes slide down the line of tributes and rest on me for an instant. It takes everything I have to control my expression. I allow a smirk to cross my features, just a guy appreciating the sight of a more than pretty girl who's unafraid to show off her charms. Inside, I'm quaking and that fact alone makes me all the more determined to look unaffected. Caesar announces that her three minutes are up and drops a kiss on her knuckles before escorting her back to her chair. The crowd roars agreement when he asked teasingly if Glimmer does shine like her name.

The next two interviews pass without making much of an impression. Clove tries to act fierce and defiant but her tiny stature belays her efforts. My mind is still caught up in wondering what exactly has come over me that I don't realize Caesar has called my name until Clove roughly elbows my arm. I cover my error by climbing slowly to my feet. I let my face assume a stern, determined expression and keep my steps smooth and powerful as I make my way to the interview seat.

"So Cato, how are you finding the Capital," Caesar questions. "Is everyone treating you well?"

"Very well, Caesar," I answer confidently. "The Capital is amazing. I've been here before and am always amazed at the hospitality."

"You've been here before," he asked seemingly very interested. "When was that?"

"My dad is a Victor and my mother is from here." I state. My eyes find my mother's family sitting in a box not far from President Snow. They smirk and my grandmother gives a tiny wave when the camera finds them in the crowd. "We come up every year with my father prior to the beginning of the Games. It's always very exciting."

Caesar smiles, "Yes, I'm sure that it is very exciting. Now, you have the opportunity to become a Victor yourself. Are you ready for the challenges that you will face in the Arena?"

"I've trained for this my whole life, Caesar. I know that it won't be easy but I'm ready and I'm excited to get started. It will be a good show. I guarantee that."

Caesar beams his approval and the crowd roars. I allow myself to smile confidently and let my eyes gauge the response of my fellow tributes. Most of them look at me with hate-filled eyes. Some even have an expression of loathing and disgust. Only three appear unmoved by my performance. Glimmer looks at me with interest, her eyes weighing and measuring. The girl from District 12 ignores everything and everyone, her gaze remaining fixed on the floor. Peeta Mellark has the same mocking smirk on his face that he's worn ever since the Tribute parade. "Well, I'm sure that you will do very well and make your Father proud." Caesar intones. "Cato from District Two, ladies and gentlemen." The crowd applauds and I wave my hand in lazy acknowledgement. I have surely won some sponsors with this performance. That is the whole point of this charade. We give them a show; they give us money to help us live a little longer. It's not a fair trade but it is the rules of the Game.

It seems like too short of a time before I hear, "You know her as the Girl on Fire. Katniss Everdeen from District Twelve." Caesar announces. "Come on up here." She climbs hastily to her feet and trips slightly over her heels. She appears lost, her eyes wide and startled as they survey the shrieking mass. Whatever her feelings, the Capital clearly adores her. She takes her seat and finally meets Caesar's waiting eyes. "What?" she asked shakily.

Caesar grins and pats her hand encouragingly, "I think someone is nervous." He jokes with the crowd. "I said that you made quite an entrance at the Tribute Parade. My heart stopped."

"So did mine," she rejoins nervously gaining an appreciative chuckle from both Caesar and the crowd. My gaze finds Peeta Mellark's in the waiting line and I shake my head because he couldn't be more obvious if he tried. His feelings shine out of his blue eyes like a bonfire. Every time she stumbles, his fingers twitch like he's waiting to spring to her aid. Her weak jokes pull a wide grin before he can rein himself in. I turn my attention back to the ongoing interview in time to catch her say, "I'm wearing them tonight. Do you want to see?" The horde screams their approval and she rises obligingly.

She whirls into a turn and the bottom of her dress flares into incandescent flames. I don't know how her stylist accomplished this feat but the effect is startling. She twirls continuously, the flames churning and spinning with her. My jaw drops before I can stop myself and I can't help but glance at Peeta again. He's given up all pretense of indifference. His eyes are fastened to her, his mouth slightly open in complete awe. Anyone looking at him at this moment can't help but see that, for this boy, the girl in the fiery dress is the center of the universe. She is blazing on the stage and he is on fire. Normally, I would be thrilled to be handed such an obvious advantage. This is a fight and he's given me the keys to his downfall without even realizing it. Take her down and he falls. I suddenly hope that I'm the only one who has noticed.

She halts dizzy and disoriented and Caesar helpfully guides her back to her chair. "I only have one more question, Katniss." He says solemnly. "Your volunteering for your sister at the reaping touched all of us. Did she come to say good bye to you?" Katniss silently nods, her eyes steady on Caesar's face. "What did you tell her?"

She gulps and then whispers, "I told her that I would try to win. That I would try to win for her." The crowd leaps to its feet, clapping noisily and stomping their feet. Caesar kisses her hand and releases her to go back to her seat. She walks proudly and sits down like a queen. Her gaze sweeps the room and she gives a tiny nod to someone in the crowd. I follow her gaze and see a dark man with brown hair, sporting gold eye liner return the gesture. I recognize him from the Tribute parade. This is her stylist and it appears that he is reassuring her that her performance was just what they were looking for. I have to agree with him. Chalk up yet another surprise for the night. She has managed to undo every assumption I had about her. Not to mention the reaction of Peeta Mellark. They've given me a lot to think about.

I turn my attention back to Caesar and the last tribute of the evening. Peeta has an easy smile on his face and cheerfully banters with Caesar. The crowd shouts its approval when they trade barbs back and forth regarding Capital showers. I have to grin myself. Peeta can be a pretty funny guy. I almost regret that I met him here. Back in District Two, he would have been a good friend. Here, that is not an option. Caesar pats him appreciatively on the knee and asks about any girls back home. I see him tense up and he smiles uncomfortably and shakes his head.

"Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?" Caesar asks.

He sighs and finally comments, "There is one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the Reaping."

Caesar sympathetically pats his knee again and encourages, "You win, and you go home. She can't turn you down then."

I know what's coming and look her way as his remark fills the excited silence. "Winning won't help my case because she came here with me." Her mouth falls open and shock fills her eyes. The throng cries out in disbelief and empathy for this boy's misfortune. Caesar asked if she knew before this moment. He drops his eyes to his shiny shoes and whispers, "Not until now." Caesar pats him in a commiserating fashion and he walks unsteadily back to his seat. She won't look at him and the show closes with the scene of them standing uncomfortably side by side.

The stage hands herd us off stage quickly. The others give him furious looks for upstaging their efforts. No doubt his will be the most remembered of the night. In all honesty, he blew the rest of us away. The various mentors and stylists begin to gather their charges and lead them off to the residential floors. I see my mentor heading toward me and wave him off. I want to see what happens. I know it's wrong of me but judging from her reaction there is going to be a big explosion. For once, I'm not searching for chinks in the armor. I want to see if she's going to take his revelation in the spirit it was given or if she'll come out with guns blazing. If I could bet, I'd go with the guns.

I didn't have long to wait because as soon as he gets within reaching distance, she strikes hard and fast. A shove with both hands in the center of his chest knocks him off his feet and into a nearby urn. The pottery shatters and blood flows as he catches himself on his hands amid the broken pieces. Their drunken mentor and pink-haired escort swiftly separate them and diffuse the scene. Peeta's stylist leads him off to the elevator, murmuring about seeing to his hands. Seeing my chance, I duck into the elevator just before the door closes.

Peeta offers a weak grin as he realizes I'm there. His stylist edges between us but Peeta puts a halting hand on her arm and motions her aside. She steps back against the wall, her eyes darting from him to me. The doors open into a medical station that I have never seen. She leads him over to a convenient bay and leaves to get one of the medics to take care of his injury. I had followed and take one of the empty chairs silently watching. He glances at me then says jokingly, "Well that didn't exactly go well, did it?"

I have to laugh at his resigned tone. "No, I don't think that it did. What did you think would happen? Were you hoping that she would fling herself into your arms and declare her undying love and devotion?"

"No, I definitely didn't expect her to do that." Peeta laughs. "I'm actually surprised that I got off with only a cut hand. She can be a little hostile when something surprises her."

"I would never have thought that about her," I comment wryly. "What are you going to do now?"

He looks at me searchingly and then sarcastically retorts, "I don't think that I should be telling you that. Do you? In a few days, you'll be trying to kill me. That's not a good basis for confiding my deepest, darkest secrets."

I snort disbelievingly, "I think typical stopped becoming a problem when you announced to the world that the love of your life is standing beside you before you even told her. " I have to laugh at his disgruntled expression. "Seriously, what are you going to do? You've set it up where sponsors will be flocking to her just on the off chance that she might fall for you too. Don't you want to make it through this?"

He bites his lip and eyes me warily, "What do you care? You're here to win. Isn't that all you Careers live for anyway?"

I huff out a disbelieving breath. "Look, I was just asking. It's not about the Games or strategy. I just want to know what you hoped to accomplish. You can believe me or not. That's up to you."

He continues to gnaw at his lower lip but now his eyes are curious as they watch me. The medic comes in to examine his hands. The cuts aren't deep but they continue to copiously bleed. The medic applies a topical antibiotic and a liquid bandage to glue the edges of the cuts together. He finishes with a swath of fresh white bandage. Peeta flexes his fingers and quietly thanks the medic for his help. His stylist leads us back to the elevator. Peeta continues to watch me and then appears to make a decision. "Portia, go ahead and go up. I'll be there in a minute." Portia protests but at his level look; she demurs and enters the elevator alone. Her gaze marks me and I have to laugh. If I was planning to hurt him, I would have done it already.

Peeta waits until the doors close and then turns into a nearby waiting area. He takes a chair and gestures for me to sit down. "Look, I'm sorry if I was rude earlier. This whole situation isn't something that I was prepared for." He waits until I nod and lets out a breath. "I didn't expect her to fling herself at my feet. That's not how she works. I guess it is selfish of me, but since I'll probably be dead soon I just wanted her to know how I feel. I also wanted to help her any way that I can. She has to go back home."

I look at him in disbelief. He couldn't be saying that he was prepared to die so that this girl can live. Who thinks like that? "What you want is impossible! " I grate out. "You can't think anything you do will make the slightest bit of difference. You can't protect her if you're dead. All you can do is hand the others a weakness to use against you both. They will be hunting you now, both of you."

His eyes widen and his lips turn up at my outburst. "I can't protect her anyway. I know that. But I can get her sponsors which will help her." He shook his head. "I can't believe that you care and that I'm telling you this. You're one of those that will be hunting us once we're in the Arena. I'm handing you a huge advantage. Even if she doesn't love me, she will be affected by my dying. That will make her vulnerable. I could be killing her just by telling you this."

"Yes, you could." I agree soberly. "So why are you telling me?"

Peeta grins unrepentantly, "Because you asked me. Because you don't seem like a typical District Two tribute. Because I can." He laughs at my doubtful expression. "Because you know a little something about what I'm going through."

"What?" I exclaim. "Have you lost your mind? I don't love anybody and I have no intentions of sacrificing myself for some misguided quest that is doomed to fail."

He looks at me sympathetically, "You don't love anybody yet but you're falling. I've been there and I can recognize the signs. You may not know it yet but I do. What are you going to do? Will you kill her when the time comes? Will winning really mean that much to you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I bite out angrily. "I don't even know why I'm here." I leap my feet and punch the elevator button. I glance back over my shoulder and meet his sympathetic blue gaze. "You're wrong." I snarl. "You're wrong and you'll regret ever telling me this."

He smiles and nods in agreement. "I will regret it but not for the reasons you're thinking." He lifts a bandaged hand. "Thanks for checking on me. For what it's worth, I appreciate it."

I nod shortly and the doors close cutting off any further comment. I ride the elevator down in silence, unable to get his words out of my head. "I'm not falling for anything," I mutter to myself. "I'm going to win. That's the only thing that matters." Somehow, I don't think I convinced him. I can't even be sure that I've convinced myself.

End Part 4

A/N This chapter was a beast to write. I've spent a week writing and re-writing this blasted thing. Hopefully, the end result is satisfactory. Special thanks to my two biggest cheerleaders, Miss Mustang and Rarobin. You two gave me encouragement when I needed it, and pointed out things that I otherwise would have overlooked. Virtual cookies and many thanks. Until next time, Salanderjade.


	5. The Roof

Oh, Please A Cato Story

A/N I have changed parts of canon to fit the framework of this story…please don't flame me. It was necessary. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Hunger Games…I would like to borrow Peeta.

Part 5: The Roof

The cafeteria is usually deserted at this time of night. If a tribute wants something, an Avox can bring it or it can be automatically delivered. So I'm quite surprised to discover a couple of people occupying the tables when I come in. Glimmer sits at one of the far corner tables, her head resting on her arms. Her pose is dejected, almost lost and I can't help but wonder what has brought this on. The only other person in the room is Peeta Mellark. He looks preoccupied. His hands are still bandaged from his earlier encounter with Katniss. He is speaking quietly to an Avox, requesting a pot of hot chocolate for her to be sent upstairs. I can't help but grin at his persistence. She erupted when he made his grand confession. She hit first, never stopping to question if he was sincere or if it was all strategy. She never even considered the rules about tributes fighting. She saw the opportunity to strike and she took it.

I grab a seat at the nearest table and motion for him to join me. He nods briefly and after thanking the Avox, heads slowly in my direction. Once again, he has managed to surprise me. Who would even bother to thank an Avox for their help besides this boy? They are criminals who were sentenced to perennial silence for their offenses against the Capital. They are ignored except when being given orders. They aren't usually afforded common courtesy. I don't know why the idea of Peeta Mellark being congenial to an Avox shocks me. This is the boy who announced to the world that he was in love with his fellow tribute before he even told her. This is the boy who has for all intents and purposes befriended someone who will be trying to kill him come morning. Next to that, what is a display of good manners?

He slumps down in a chair and carefully lays his hands on the table top. He eyes me, and then huffs out, "What are you doing down here? Surely nerves haven't gotten the better of you."

I snort at his scathing tone and gesture toward his injuries. "Shouldn't you be up in the med bay? Bet you're the first tribute to get beat up by his girlfriend on the eve of the Games."

He smirks in a maddening fashion and flexes his fingers. "First of all, I didn't get beaten up. Secondly, she's not my girlfriend. Lastly, we already talked about it and worked everything out. So thanks for your concern but it's not needed."

I glance over where Glimmer continues to rest her head on her arms. She hasn't moved since I walked in, nor has she touched the plate in front of her. She looks forlorn and miserable. She looks like a sixteen year old kid facing the longest night of her life. Peeta follows my gaze and I see his forehead wrinkle in thought or maybe concern. He flicks his gaze between her inert form and me. I can see the questions piling up behind his eyes. However, I have no intentions of answering anything. I've had enough of his wild theories to last me a life time.

"So she forgave you for your performance earlier," I comment into the quiet, hoping to distract him. "You said you had managed to talk and work it out. Did she forgive you?"

He grins at his hands and shakes his head. "I don't think forgiveness is the right word. She's not mad at me anymore. I think she believes me. She's still pissed but I can deal with that. It was the blind fury that had me worried."

I chuckle at his assessment. "Look, Mellark, don't get me wrong. She's pretty and all of that but she's no beauty queen. How can you put up with that shit?" I gestured to where a purplish-black bruise mars his cheek. It is already swollen and will no doubt be spectacular come morning. "She practically took your head off. That doesn't look hopeful if you ask me."

His smile remains unaffected. His blue eyes study me like he knows a secret and hasn't quite figured out whether or not to share it. Finally he lets out a sigh that seems to come from his toes and whispers, "She doesn't mean half of it. She reacts before she thinks sometimes. She's had to be strong for so long that it scares her to even think about being dependent on someone. She's worth the trouble. All of it."

I shake my head and have to ask because my curiosity is killing me, "So you really love her? For real and not just as a strategy to get sponsors?"

The look of contempt he shoots me is priceless. If I hadn't been serious, I might have laughed right in his face. "Yes, I love her for real." He grates out. "I love her enough to know that if it takes me dying to get her home, then that's what I'll do."

My brows rise before I can stop myself. He means it. No quarter given and no excuses. He will die for this girl. I can't comprehend it. I question, "Why this girl? What's so special about her? You can't seriously mean what you're saying. Nobody thinks like that."

He smiles, giving me a look so filled with pity that I almost want to black his other eye. He glances over his shoulder at the dejected blond and shakes his head. "When we were five, the birds stopped to listen when she sang. When we were eleven, she pulled her mother and sister back from the edge of starvation all by herself. When we were sixteen, she volunteered to take her sister's place." He states these facts with pride. It burns in his eyes and is evident in his demeanor. "She's had a hard life and she hasn't let it break her. I can finally help her, even if it is only by dying so that she can live. To me, that is a fair trade. It's everything."

I drop my gaze to my hands and unconsciously look at Glimmer sitting discouraged in the corner. What would it feel like to love someone that much? I've never even considered it before now. My mother and father don't love each other, not like that. Father has gold and prestige because he won the Hunger Games. Mother comes from a prominent Capital family. Their relationship is a boon for both of them. Each profits from the connection with the other. That isn't the kind of love that Peeta envisions when he thinks about Katniss. The concept is so foreign to me that I'm stunned. He continues to watch me, empathizing but not understanding. I eventually comment, "That is the craziest shit I've ever heard. I'll admit that it it's an original. The Capital will go crazy over it. She'll have sponsors around the block. They'll fall all over themselves to sign her, especially since she got that eleven in training. But it's also made her a prime target. You have to know that. They'll be gunning for her, the others. They won't stop until she's dead. Hell, if I gave a damn about the scores then I'd be going after her myself." I pause as the thought catches up to me. "Exactly what did she do to get an eleven anyway?" He smirks but doesn't answer so I continue. "Clove will definitely be looking to take her down. She doesn't like being second best at anything and she's lethal with a blade. Marvel, the kid from One, doesn't look like much but he can handle a spear. He doesn't have to be close to get a killing blow in. Can your girl handle that?"

His eyes harden and his fist clinches despite the bandages swathing them. "She can handle anything. She can take care of herself. Besides, I'll be there to watch her back. They'll have to go through me to get to her. I won't make it easy."

I can't help but gape at his resolute tone. He is blunt; I have to give him that much. He means what he says absolutely. He will stand between this girl and anything that tries to harm her even me. I don't know where it comes from. I don't even realize what I'm about to say before the words fly from my mouth. "Okay, I'll get you in. If you're with us, then you stand a better chance of keeping her safe. I won't touch her, not at the beginning at least. I can't promise what will happen at the end. I plan on winning this thing. But I'll help you as long as I can."

He stares at me with his mouth open, disbelief and hope warring each other on his features. He stops, swallows and blinks a few times; and then gives me a hard look. "Why? You don't gain anything by helping me. Why are you doing this?"

I shrug, my gaze wandering just past his shoulder again. She's looking at us now, confusion plain on her face. Like I said, it's not usual for District Two tributes to be sociable. This whole situation is crazy. I could be setting myself up for the biggest mistake I'm likely to ever make but something about him stops me. He's too good, I realize. He doesn't have the killer instinct, the will to survive. He doesn't belong here. And yet, I have no doubts that he will kill if her life is on the line. For her, he will make himself belong here. There's something about these two and their story that even gets to me. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Lover Boy." I grate out. "We always set up an alliance in the beginning just until the dead wood is cleared away. That's what I'm offering you, no more. I won't touch your girl and I'll help you as much as I can. That's all. In the end, we'll just have to wait and see what happens."

He follows my gaze and I see his mouth quirk once again. He drops his gaze to his lap and sits silently. Finally, he grasps my hand and nods once sharply. "It's a deal," he says quietly. "We're allies then." He looks back over his shoulder and a rueful grin touches his mouth. "I won't touch her either. I'll watch out for her as best as I can. If I have to choose between her and Katniss, I'll pick Katniss. Just so we're clear."

I start to deny the necessity of this gesture. That girl means nothing to me. I catch her eye across the room and can't bring myself to say the words. The denial won't come. She catches me looking and eyes me curiously. I give her a curt nod and turn my attention back to the now grinning boy across the table. He doesn't gloat; I have to give him that. He doesn't even acknowledge what he's just seen beyond the smile he's wearing. He climbs to his feet and then hesitates. His gaze goes back to the unhappy girl across the room and I can see him thinking furiously. He turns back to me and remarks, "You know there is a garden on the roof. The access door is up on our floor. You just have to take the elevator, turn right down the hall and go out the last door on the left. It has a pretty nice view of the Capital. It's a good place to have a talk if you need to. No interruptions." He smirks mischievously and then heads for the door. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow," he calls back. My laughter follows him out the door.

. . . . .XO

She's laid her head back down on her arms when I finally decide to take Peeta up on his suggestion. After all, this is the last night before the Games. I might as well get this over with now. I won't get a better chance. What I'm supposed to be doing exactly eludes me, but what the hell. At the sound of my approaching steps, she looks up and gives me an uncertain look. She rocks back in her chair and crosses her arms protectively over her stomach. I stop and can't help but shift indecisively as her gaze bores into me. What the hell am I doing again? Right. I'm taking the advice of an insane idiot who will more than likely be dead in a couple of weeks. Not exactly my brightest idea. Eventually, she gets tired of my staring and says quietly, "Hi."

I feel the red climbing my cheeks and try to sound nonchalant. "Hi," I return then make it worse as I fumble over a chair trying to sit down. My face has taken on a permanently pink hue. She's beginning to get amused at my antics and loses her dejected pose. "Are you okay?" I ask carefully and watch as the tentative smile slips off her face.

"I'm fine. More than fine actually." She growls. "So you and your friend can find someone else to laugh about."

My eyes widen in surprise at her combative tone. I hold up my hands in a placatory gesture. "Look, I was just trying to be nice. Don't take it personally." I turn to walk back to the elevator but stop when she catches my arm.

"I'm sorry," she says inaudibly. "I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that all this waiting is making me crazy. Thank you for asking."

I nod and sit back down. "I know what you mean. They make us wait while they drag out every minute. I guess it makes for a better show, huh?"

She smirks and returns, "Yeah, I guess it does. It's just different when you're on this side of the waiting. Not nearly as exciting."

My mouth twitches at her choice of words. I gnaw on my bottom lip then ask, "Did you volunteer?" She nods silently and I laugh quietly to myself. Her glare lasers into me and I have to restrain myself from laughing. "Me too. You're right. It is much more exciting to be watching it instead of sitting here waiting for something to happen." Her eyes soften and I decide to just go for it. "Come on. Let's get out of here." I stand up and offer my hand. She gives me a distrustful look and crosses her arms once more. "Look, I'm not going to try anything okay. I just want to get out of here for a little while. You look like you could use a little down time too. You're welcome to come with me if you want."

I turn away and head for the elevators, fighting the urge to look back. After a few moments, I hear her unobtrusive steps behind me. We go to the elevator and hit the button, neither of us saying a word. The silence is taut, full of an unfamiliar energy and tension. It feels like waiting. I don't know if it's the anticipation of the Games the next morning or just the normal nervousness of a sixteen year old. Either way, I stay quiet. The elevator sends us swiftly upward and before long the doors have opened onto the upper floor. I turn right and then head to the last door on the left. She follows wordlessly and together we step out onto the roof of the Training Center.

I really have to hand it to Peeta Mellark. He knows how to pick a place to get away from it all. I glance at Glimmer and find that she is staring in bewilderment at the garden spread out before us. I can see the edge of the force field surrounding the roof. That's to keep us from jumping off or to keep a hovercraft from landing, I think to myself. The Capital doesn't miss a trick. We head over and look at the lights sparkling in the City Center. The crowds still fill the streets, flocking to the massive screens which front the squares. They cheer whenever a favorite's face appears. I can see myself flickering on a few of them. Most are dominated by the so called 'Star-crossed lovers of District 12' and announcers who bemoan what Fate has done to them.

The tragic heartbreaking story will be the focus of the Capital elite going forward. Peeta doesn't know what kind of mayhem he has unleashed. Then again, maybe he does. He either doesn't care or he's so focused on getting her home that it no longer matters. I still can't comprehend what it would be like to love someone that much. Would I sacrifice myself so that the person I most care about could go on? I don't think so. No, I wouldn't and for some reason that answer bothers me. I realize that I've overlooked the fact that both he and she are willing to pay that price. She volunteered for the Games, but only to save her sister. He was reaped but will die so that she can go home. Maybe District Twelve is just crazy or maybe they remember something that the rest of us have forgotten?

Before I can contemplate this further, I realize that she's standing beside me and the silence has grown awkward. I give her a small smile and gesture to a bench close by. She sits down and I follow, my mind still caught up in the enigma of my unlikely ally. "Nice night," She comments into the ensuing quiet and I jump at the sound of her voice. She giggles and I feel my face flush again. Somehow, this girl has me in a state of perpetual embarrassment. I haven't been this tongue-tied since I was twelve.

"It is," I comment casually, trying to regain my equilibrium. "I can't believe that they put this up here. My mentor or escort didn't even mention it. "

"Neither did mine," She replies. "How did you find out about it?"

Her question causes me to laugh because the source will no doubt shock her. I quickly decide to keep the alliance to myself. However, letting her know how I discovered this place won't cause any harm. "The boy from District 12 told me. He mentioned that it was a good place to take some time for yourself. You looked like you needed to get away, so I figured that this might do the trick." I stand and take a few steps away from the bench. "If you want some privacy, then I'll go."

She stares at me for an uncomfortable minute then quickly shakes her head. "No, that's okay. You can stay if you want." She glances around the garden. "It was decent of him to tell you about this. They could have kept it all to themselves." She smirks and then comments, "The Capital would love for their star-crossed lovers to have a garden tryst before going into the Arena. Can you imagine the outcry?"

I can't stop the snort that escapes me at her caustic comment. It is hard to not be a little jealous of the attention that Peeta had managed to garner with his little confession. It was brilliant and I would admire it more if I didn't know the truth behind it. Desperation is a powerful motivator but it can also make you do things you would normally never consider. In this light, my alliance with him seems foolish and dangerous. The slightest mistake can kill you in the Arena. Tying myself down to an unstable ally doesn't look so appealing all of the sudden. Still, I have to admit that if I had to choose between Peeta and Marvel as an ally, then I would choose Peeta every time. Tradition will only get you so far.

I should be thinking about how I can remove the threat of a person that can score an eleven in training. She impressed the Games makers. I don't know how and he's not talking. If she gets the opportunity to kill me, will she take it? Maybe not if she sees him with me. Will he try to kill me if it comes down to just us in the final stage of the Games? Yes, I know he will. The certainty of this gives me comfort. At least, I know where I stand. Looking at the blond girl in front of me, I can't say that I'm certain about anything. She will be my ally in the Arena if past history is anything to go by. How will she react, knowing that eventually one of us will have to kill the other? How will my alliance with Peeta affect the rest of the choices that I will be required to make once the final bell sounds?

She can see the varying expressions crossing my face but doesn't know the meaning behind it. She can only think that I'm just as nervous as she is about tomorrow. This is why what happens next is so extraordinary. She steps close to me and her eyes never leave mine. Her hand hesitates and then curls around the back of my neck. I have only one brief second to feel the shock welling up inside me before her lips are on mine. I am frozen. My mind refuses to comprehend that this girl is here with me much less kissing me of her own free will. She tastes like hot chocolate and vanilla. Her hair smells like the flowers that bloom around us. All I can do is slide my arms around her waist and pull her closer as my mind finally catches up with what's happening. Suddenly, her hands are flat on my chest and she's pushing me away. Her eyes are wide and panicked in the reflected city light. She mumbles, "Good night." She then bolts for the door and slams it shut behind her. I can't move. I touch my lips and stare mutely at the door as I try to understand what just happened. It's too late to try and catch her. She's already in the elevator headed back to her room by now. So I go back to the bench and I sit down.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I know that the blood and chaos of the Cornucopia will try to push me to my limits. I tell myself that I can't go into this fight distracted. I can't let this keep me from doing what I came here to do. I will win no matter what. Nobody will stand in my way. Nobody.

End Part 5

A/N Thanks to all who have reviewed/alerted/favorite this story. I have to admit, this story has been a pain but I'm starting to enjoy playing with Cato. He's quite a guy, once you get to know him. If you like the chapter please drop me a few lines and let me know. I'm normally not a beggar for reviews but it encourages me. Until next time, dear readers….Salanderjade OUT!


	6. The Cornucopia

Oh, Please a Cato Story

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games, unfortunately.

A/N Here we go…let the Games begin. Review and let me know what you think. Events in canon have been twisted to fit the story framework.

Part 6: The Cornucopia

I was brought to the Launch Room just after daybreak and left with my stylist for the signal that it was time to be raised into the Arena. I feel a mix of anxiety and exhilaration now that the waiting is finally over. I didn't get the chance to speak with any of my allies prior to boarding the hovercraft. It doesn't matter. We all know that any plans will be detonated once we face the Cornucopia. After the gong sounds, it will be a free for all. The first day is always the most bloody. Survive the day and you have set yourself up as a contender. Win the Cornucopia, and you have set yourself up as a Victor.

An alarm sounds and I'm directed onto the circular plate which will take me upward. A glass cylinder is lowered, pinning me on the plate. The dye is cast now. There is no going back. The plate begins to lift and I look up trying to get some glimpse of the terrain. The landscape of the Arena will be the final determining factor in the decision of strategy for most of the tributes. The plate shudders to a halt and I'm blinded by early morning light. After furiously blinking to clear my vision, I see that I am in a flat plain of beaten earth. The golden Cornucopia gleams brightly in the sun, the bounty of weapons, food, and survival equipment arranged in concentric circles spiraling out from the mouth and terminating a few feet from the tribute plates. There are a few nonessential items lying nearby but I ignore them. I see my destination placed directly within the mouth itself. The rack of swords is angled so that I can see each blade. There is everything from single edged razor like ones to thick bladed serpentine swords that require both arms and tremendous strength to wield.

I lift my gaze from the array and note the position of my allies as well as those I have tagged as my greatest competition. Katniss is almost directly across from me. I see Peeta five plates over. He is looking at her and furiously shaking his head. I attempt to decipher what warning he is giving her but with the little bit of time I have left, I can't afford to indulge my curiosity. Clove is three plates down from me. Her gaze, like mine, was drawn into the midst of the offerings. A plethora of knives and edged weapons have been assembled. I know that will be her destination and am satisfied that if she can get a good jump off the plate, she shouldn't have any trouble. Glimmer is two plates down from Clove. Her eyes meet mine for a second and she gives me a tiny nod of acknowledgement. I tilt my head briefly back at her and then turn my eyes to the counter inevitably ticking the seconds down.

Five, four, three, two, one…..the gong sounds. I leap from my plate and run in a straight line toward the sword rack. I see a brown head dart past me and look to see the little girl from eleven with a small pack knocking against her back heading for the sparse, piney woods further up the hill. I don't bother trying to stop her. She's not a factor in my overall plan. She is one that I will mark off when her cannon fires. I catch sight of Glimmer with a knife in her hand calmly carving a trench into the neck of the girl from District Nine. Clove has reached the knives and is furiously stuffing her jacket with an assortment of blades. The large boy from District Eleven has armed himself with a scythe and grabbed a large pack and sleeping bag. He takes a massive swing at the boy from District Eight opening up a massive gash in the boy's stomach. His knees follow his guts to the ground. He pitches forward into the blood ridden grass; twitches and gives one last gasp. Clearly, his canon has fired. District Eleven doesn't stop to admire his handy work but runs at top speed toward a grassy field that abuts the Cornucopia plain.

I see Clove's arm flash and the boy from District Nine folds up and falls face first into the verdant grass. I see a familiar dark braid flapping in the wind as she grabs the fluorescent orange pack the boy dropped and whirls toward the woods. Clove's face splits into a feral grin and a hilt comes quickly to hand. Katniss must have eyes in the back of her head for at the last second; the orange pack is raised and the blade buries itself into the canvas lining. The resulting oath as Katniss disappears from view scorches the air around her as Clove scans for another victim. She spies Peeta headed for the Cornucopia and moves to intercept. "Clove," I scream. "He's with us."

She scowls but stays her throw and marches to the pile of foodstuff and begins to sort out the packs. Peeta has grabbed a spear with a sword like blade. He moves to another heap of supplies and sorts through various packs and containers. I hear running feet and spin around, my sword already arcing to intercept the blow. He's inside my guard and my parry is knocked aside. It's the boy from District Four. I can't keep the surprise from my face when I realize this. District Four is usually an ally. This year is an exception because he's aiming to kill. I set my feet and prepare to meet his next lunge. This time my blade finds flesh and blood splatters as my sword cuts into his forearm. The cut isn't bad. I can tell that from the drag as I pull the sword free and reverse my momentum, shifting my feet to set up a return blow. I realize my mistake and backpedal in an attempt to gain more room. I want a torso or neck hit for a clean, quick kill.

He continues to press me. The short, snakelike blade that he brandishes is the Moro Kris style. It is designed to maximize the severity of the wound. It severs vessels, tears muscle, and gives a wider cut to enhance the chances that the victim will bleed to death. That isn't the only reason why I am furiously trying to avoid even the slightest contact with the blade. These swords are also traditionally treated with poison. It's definitely more dangerous than a typical edged weapon and not just for the obvious reasons. I change my stance and block his initial thrust. I push him back and; while the sword is still moving away, shift into a direct stab pattern that targets his heart. He drops into a forward roll and ducks underneath my arm. He's inside my defensive perimeter again and already moving to take advantage. A flash of blond and a thick haft connecting with my opponent's head is all the warning I get. It buys me time and gives me opportunity. That's all I need. My sword finds his stomach and I push it in as deeply as possible. He groans, the Moro Kris falling from his grasp. I give the haft a twist and feel the blade vibrate as a shaky pant escapes his mouth. My eyes never leave his as he falls into the blood wet mud at my feet.

I hear a muffled gag and my eyes find his blue ones over the fallen form at my feet. My stare doesn't drop as I pull my blade free and wipe it clean on District Four's now torn and ghastly jacket. His jaw is set tightly and his face has lost what little color the morning's exercise had put there. He looks at the boy lying between us and the spear haft in his hand. He raises his gaze to mine and nods. I feel my lips quirk up at his action. No doubt, he saved my life or prevented a serious injury. He has repaid my earlier admonishment to Clove that she was targeting an ally. So far in this Game, we are even. It remains to be seen how long the status quo will be maintained.

"Did you see her?" He asked quietly. I tilt my head toward the woods and give a small thumb's up. The look of relief on his face is priceless. He eases back as the rest of our group gathers in. His eyes touch on the silver bow and arrows that Glimmer has chosen. His surprise isn't obvious but I've observed him enough to realize that this weapon isn't what he expected. I can't keep the shock from my own features when I see her with that particular weapon in hand. She practiced at every opportunity in the Training Center. Her ability had improved markedly. That didn't change the fact that she wasn't very accurate except in controlled, close distances. I've seen her handle a sword and she's obviously as handy as Clove with knives. This choice doesn't make sense and both Peeta and I see it. I almost forget myself enough to ask what she's doing but a glint of blue halts my tongue. He wants me to let it go. I roll my eyes but decide to let both him and her have their way for now.

The spindly form of District Three's boy waits warily just outside of the Cornucopia's boundaries. Glimmer and Clove exchange aggravated looks. Clearly, they don't understand nor approve of his presence. For that matter, I don't know what the hell he's doing here either. Marvel had decided that it's a prime opportunity to demonstrate his throwing ability and moves sinuously forward, hefting his spear. Peeta shouts, gaining Marvel's attention and ire as he admonishes us to leave the boy alone. I grit my teeth and am about to point out to my unlikely ally that we aren't here to start a collection. This is the Hunger Games. There is no room for cooperation beyond whatever mutual advantage can be gained from it. He meets my eye and gestures toward the base of the plates. "He can help to secure the supplies," Peeta remarks. "He's familiar with the explosives. He is willing to set up a trap with our stuff in the center in exchange for a cut. It will keep the others out while we're hunting." I raise my eyebrows, impressed in spite of myself. How does he know this? More importantly, what other bombshells will he drop?

Marvel is still smarting from being called down. He sneers in Peeta's direction as he helps himself to the food packs and a sleeping bag. There is a number of survival tents pilled close to the mouth of the golden horn. I pull them free and begin to get them assembled. Shelter is just as important as water in the Arena. We are setting on the banks of a fairly substantial lake. There are a number of iodine bottles in with the camping gear. We should be able to keep an ample quantity of drinkable water. Overall, we are in pretty good shape.

Peeta comes over to help with the guy lines. He murmurs, "I need to find her. I can't let her be out there alone. I need to be with her." His blue eyes study me and I can't help but crack a grin at his insistence. "Did you tell her to pick up the bow?" He asks quietly. I shake my head, raising a questioning brow in the process. He releases a breath and asks again, "Are you sure that she was alright? I lost sight of her right after the first wave. Did she even make it out with any supplies?"

I snicker and retort, "The girl was running like hell toward the pines when I saw her. She was moving too well to have any type of injury." I throw a look over my shoulder where my fellow District Two tribute is once more rifling through the knives and other throwing weaponry. "Clove donated a knife." I say quietly. "She will be able to defend herself if she keeps her head. We'll start looking for her later tonight." Peeta nods his head and bends to tighten the ropes and seat the stakes more securely. "Peeta, she's fine. She's going to be fine for now. Don't worry so much." I chide him. A disgruntled snort is my only reply.

I spot her sitting on a container with the bow propped up beside her and the quiver resting on her knees. She is toying idly with the silvery fletching while running the opposite hand down the length of the arrow to look for any bend or flaw which would affect the accuracy. I take a seat a short distance away and watch as she continues to aimlessly examine the bow. "Need any help?" I ask carefully. This girl's touchiness is quickly becoming a familiar reaction to me. Her flight from the rooftop after the impromptu kiss was just one more in a long line of looks, mutters and misunderstandings. I inspect the respectable arsenal at her feet. A thin, pliable sword swings from her belt. There are a variety of throwing weapons; stars, delicate knives, even small arrowheads. Each one is light and portable. The cache that she has amassed makes it even more confusing that she is devoting so much attention and effort to the bow.

"I think that I have everything under control," she observes. "I want to be ready for later." She continues to fiddle with the bow, her fingers moving nervously along the contoured grip. "Are we going to head out before we lose the light or wait for cover?"

I watch her fingers as they continue to skip along the length of the bow. "I think we will wait until full dark before heading out. It will be easier to flush the birds out of the bushes then." She laughs silently at my sarcastic statement. I glance up at her and can't stop the question from coming out. "Why are you carting that bow around? You're decent but I don't think it should be your first line of attack much less defense. What's the plan?"

She shakes her head and smirks knowingly. "I think that it will come in handy soon; probably more quickly than you think. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." She shifts her gaze to Peeta staring toward the woods, a faintly longing expression on his face. "He's not going to help you kill her, you know. He's just here to make sure that we don't take her down."

I grin ruefully. She's quick; you have to give her that. "I'm not worried about her." I comment. "She's not a factor. I don't care what her score was in training. I want District Eleven. He's much more dangerous than little Katniss will ever be."

She gives a disbelieving snort and my head snaps around. She's eying me in amusement and I don't like it. It's clear that she believes she knows something I don't. Her fingers are still busily outlining the bow. "You're making a mistake, District Two. Never underestimate a woman. She will cut your throat more quickly and for less reason than a man even if she does feel sorry later. Don't underestimate Katniss Everdeen. She's a survivor." She climbs to her feet and rapidly assembles her various ordnances. "Better get your stuff." She comments. "Light's almost gone. It's hunting time."

I offer her a small smile as I straighten my sword and the shorter dagger secured to my belt. The others rapidly gather what they need and we make our way into the ensuing dark. A curl of smoke can just be seen against the twilight depths of the sky. It's time to play the Game. We shoulder our packs and weapons and melt quickly into the gathering night.

End Part Six

A/N Thanks so much for reading! I greatly appreciate everyone who has taken the time to check this story out. It's fun trying to twist the little details of Book 1 to fit my little AU. Beginning with the next chapter, I will start taking considerable liberties with the official story of the Games….hope you're as excited as I am to see where this goes…Until next time, Salanderjade.


	7. Rue and Tracker Jackers

Oh, Please A Cato Story

A/N Here is the beginning of me diverging from source material in a really big way….events from canon have been twisted to fit the needs of this story. Reviews and opinions are welcomed and encouraged—but no flames please! Please let me know what you think…

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I just like to mess with the characters.

Part 7: Rue and the Trackerjackers

We can just see the flickering flames through the trees. The telltale smoke is no longer visible but the yellow glow clearly marks the position. Whoever this idiot is, they have signed their own death warrant by starting this blaze. This one will be too easy. The five of us spread out in a fan shaped formation and bracket every possible avenue of escape. We're close enough now to smell the burning sap and bitter ash. The girl is huddled as close to the warmth as she can get without actually sitting in the fire. She stares transfixed at the sparks, her attention focused inward. I want to shake her for throwing away her life so carelessly.

She finally realizes that she is no longer alone but it is already too late. Marvel advances with a feral look of pleasure on his face. He forgoes his favored spear for the short sword that hangs by his side. The girl begins to beg shrilly for her life but her pleas fall on deaf ears. I notice Peeta out of the corner of my eye. His face is pale and drawn. His knuckles are visibly white as he grips the haft of his spear. He wants no part of this. He is appalled by it. The distaste is written clearly on his face for any and all to see. I hastily elbow him, causing his blue gaze to swing in my direction. I guardedly shake my head at him, narrowing my eyes to underscore my point. His jaw visibly tightens as he realizes there is no way to change the outcome.

He puts on a bored air, lounging on his spear and smiling slightly as he watches Marvel mock the girl. Both Marvel and Clove taunt her, flipping the scraggly ponytail and trailing the blunt edge of their weapons across the back of her neck. Clove finally tires of the game and stabs the girl neatly in the soft space just below her jawline. The pleas fade to choking gasps and the girl falls back amid the leaves, her feet twitching and curling into the smoking remains of her fire. Marvel complains loudly that it was he who should have gotten the kill. He was the first one on site after all. He sheaths his sword and retrieves his spear. A swift movement betrays his intent and the head buries itself in the girl's abdomen. She curls around the shaft, her gasps becoming labored and forced. Peeta and I kick dirt over the remains of her fire while the others divide up the spoils. The girl, we leave to her fate. I notice that the canon hasn't sounded yet but figure it is only a matter of time.

We walk a short way down the hill, Clove and Marvel still arguing over the contents of the girl's pack. The only thing of value was a well-stocked first aid kit. Clove laid claim to it but Marvel was adamant that since he originally spotted the fire, he should be the one to claim the spoils. Glimmer hasn't spoken since we left camp but I can see the look of disgust that she openly wears. In this, she and Peeta are in clear agreement. He is now openly looking at our two bickering allies with contempt and scorn. Neither Clove nor Marvel has noticed that the cannon hasn't fired. The girl's not dead yet. I can see the knowledge of this truth on Peeta's face. He catches my eye and tilts his head toward the dying embers in the distance. I nod and he huffs out a breath before retracing our steps. He's only gone a few moments before the boom signals that she's finally gone. I hear the shuffle of his return in the dead leaves and loose branches. He quietly takes his place and resumes his study of the surrounding darkness. The small streaks of blood on his hands and the underside of his jaw give testimony to the girl's passing. I wonder if he talked to her as she breathed her last. Did this boy whose soul is too pure and unaffected to survive the horrors he's already seen give the girl comfort as she slipped away? Or did he strike the merciful blow that sent her on? I'll never know and I won't ask him.

"Let's go see who else we can find," Marvel comments elatedly. "The more we get rid of now, the sooner this thing will be over." He fidgets with his spear as his gaze marks each of us. "I really want to get rid of your partner, District 12." He watches Peeta closely. "She didn't get that eleven for her personality. Do you know how she got it?" Peeta wordlessly shakes his head and Marvel snorts derisively. "Well, come on then. Let's get going. We're wasting hunting time."

We head further into the trees, looking for any sign that something might have passed this way. Apparently, everyone else is intelligent enough to keep a fire small and unnoticeable or to just hunker down and wait it out. Glimmer does spot a broken tree limb but there's no indication that it was done by a human much less recently. We continue to walk for what seems like hours. I am about to suggest that we head back to camp when Clove gives a celebratory hoot, pointing gleefully at the snare situated off of what looks like a well-travelled game path. A few feet further down the run, we are rewarded with yet another ingenious trap. As each one is revealed, I notice that Peeta's expression grows more and more bleak. Katniss is somewhere nearby. A snare line has to be checked frequently to be effective. She is familiar with the woods. That might have something to do with her exceptional training score. There is something more to it than that. I glance at him again but he's managed to get his face back under control.

We follow the snare line as it curves along the hillside. The placement is a lesson in itself. She's managed to hit every area that has the slightest sign of game. I'm no hunter but even I can see the subtle pathways in the brush. One snare holds a fat rabbit and Clove flips a knife into its back and then cuts it loose. She picks it up by a back leg almost gingerly. The cool-eyed killer has a nauseated look on her face. The killing and butchery of fresh game isn't something that is practiced every day in District Two. We might be out here for a while and passing up a source of protein even though we have a mountain of supplies would be extremely stupid. Peeta lets out an amused snort and takes the rabbit from Clove. He retrieves a knife and neatly butchers the rabbit, leaving the remnants in the dirt. He wraps up the meat and puts it in his pack. "We'll need to cook it soon or the meat will rot," He comments casually. The others look at him with varying expressions of surprise. He meets my gaze and shrugs indifferently. He knows his way around a knife but I'm willing to bet my sword that he's not a hunter. If he's used to cleaning game, I don't have to think very hard about where he gets it. She knows the woods and apparently is no stranger to hunting. I know that she can't be totally dependent on snare lines and traps. She is familiar with a weapon. My eyes touch on the silver bow and quiver that hangs on Glimmer's back. I have a sneaking suspicion about what earned Katniss Everdeen an eleven in training. His question about the bow adds credence to this theory. Now I want to know what made Glimmer pick it up back at the Cornucopia. I'm resolved to find out.

We make camp under a thick overgrown tree and build a campfire. Peeta skewers the rabbit on a stick and props it up over the flames. Marvel and Clove dig into the packs and set out packets of dried fruit, beef strips, and bottles of water. The rabbit sizzles and juices drip onto the coals sending up flashes of steam as it cooks. Peeta sends me an amused grin. "Sure wish that we had some bread or rolls to go with this." I grin back and can't help thinking that he might as well wish for fine china and frilly table cloth while he's at it. The rabbit browns up nicely. He cautiously prods the meat and nods approvingly. He removes the stick from the flames and offers it around. Clove and Marvel both decline, choosing to stick to preserved rations. Glimmer surprises me by taking a leg and polishing it off quickly. I take a part for myself and savor the perfectly cooked meat. Peeta slowly eats his portion, his eyes sad and withdrawn. I know that he's thinking of Katniss. We're taking food away from her. I nudge him with my foot and nod toward the meat that he's holding forgotten in his hand.

"Better eat that while you can," I comment nonchalantly. "Don't want to let it go to waste." He shoots me a wry glance but finishes off his portion of the rabbit. "That wasn't bad, Lover Boy," I remark teasingly. "Is cooking over an open flame something that they teach everyone in District Twelve?"

"My family runs the bakery. Sometimes, we make trades with the butcher for meat. I have two brothers and occasionally we pretended to camp out. It's a lot more fun when you're using stuff that comes from the woods." He shrugs as he wraps up what's left of the rabbit and stows it in his pack. "Are we going to follow the snare line back down tomorrow or heading further in?"

Marvel interjects, "We'll go further in, of course. She has to be around here somewhere. I'm not leaving the area until we put her down." Clove hastily agrees. Glimmer, Peeta and I exchange glances and nod as one. With the decision made, Peeta volunteers for the first watch and we settle in for the night. I watch him surreptitiously and see the barriers finally fall now that he's free to give his emotions free rein. His shoulders slump and his fingers knot together tightly. He looks lost. A flicker of motion catches my attention. I shift carefully, my eyes tracking the movement. A pair of emerald eyes meet mine in the dark. She's watching me watching him. I put a finger up to my lips, asking for silence. She doesn't speak but her eyes continue to bore into me. Eventually, I lose the battle to stay awake and close my eyes.

Triumphant shouting wakes me up after what seems like just a few moments. I sit up, slowly becoming alert and aware. Marvel is practically dancing at the base of the tree, waving the spear above his head. The others are just as groggy as me, but we soon become aware that the cackling idiot has spotted something high up in the limbs. I blink my eyes a couple of times to adjust my vision and finally catch a glimpse of what has him so excited. "What are you doing up there, Eleven?" Marvel taunts. "Did you think hiding up in the tree like a bird would keep us from getting you?"

The little girl from District Eleven sits perched on a thick branch just above our heads. She must have climbed up there for the night only to be penned in by our presence. It was extremely bad luck for her but that was part of the Games. The odds couldn't be in every one's favor. "I was trying to get some sleep before you starting yelling and waving your stick," she comments crossly. I have to laugh at her audacity. The girl has guts. Marvels face flushes and he glares up at the tiny tribute sitting just out of reach. I admire her spirit but it's a lost cause and she has to know that. She was never a factor in these Games. She climbs to her feet and makes her way along the branch. Her small frame is clearly made for this type of maneuver. The branch barely sways as she edges closer to the trunk. Her only option is to try and put something between her and our weapons.

Two things happen simultaneously and the effect has all the shock value of a bomb going off. A slim blade blooms in the middle of the little girl's chest and she lets out a sharp gasp as she slips from the branch. Another limb crashes to the ground almost at Marvel's feet. I have just enough time to see the cone shaped hive attached to it before the outer shell disintegrates and a cloud of angry insects swarm into the darkness.

They engulf Marvel instantly and the screams are loud and piercing as the tracker jackers find their mark. Clove runs hell bent in the direction of the Cornucopia and the lake. I have just enough time to see the golden forms trailing her but she's moving fast so she just might make it. I'm backing away trying to pick any direction to get away. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a familiar dark braid as Katniss shimmies down from a nearby tree and heads off in the opposite direction from Clove. She's batting a few of the golden wasps away from her. I see her hesitate when Peeta spots her and cries out her name. She would have to run directly through the nest to reach him. They realize at the same moment that getting to each other is impossible.

With an anguished look on his face, he whirls toward me, grabs my wrist and we sprint for the tree line. I feel a few stings on my shoulder and neck. I pull the hood of my jacket up to protect my head and clamp down on his hand as hard as I can. He curses and I know that he's been stung. He staggers but continues to pull me along with him as we run blindly through the woods. I am beginning to wonder exactly where he thinks he is going when the cold water slops over my boots. I don't hesitate to drop to my knees and bury my head in the icy depths. I hear sputtering close by and know that he's done the same.

Coming back to the surface, I shake the water from my eyes and push my hair away from my face. I hear coughing nearby and see Peeta spitting and choking as he sits in the mud. He winces as he pulls the stinger from the fist-sized lump on his neck. His pupils are dilated and his hands are shaking. I decide that he's got the right idea and undo the zipper on my jacket to gain access to the lumps I can feel through my clothes. I grit my teeth and pinch my fingers over the lance like stingers, pulling them out and dropping them into the water. Peeta scoops up handfuls of mud and coats the affected areas. I have no idea if it will work but it seems like as a good a plan as any. I pop out the last stinger and cover my neck and shoulder. "You sure this will help?" I ask shivering as the slimy stuff slips down my back underneath my shirt and jacket. "I've never heard of mud being used to treat tracker jacker stings before."

He hesitantly lifts one shoulder. "The survival trainer said that mud would help to draw out the venom of most stings. The important thing is to remove the stingers. Did you get all of yours?"

I slide my hands over my neck and down my sides searching for additional marks. "I think so," I return. "I only got hit a few times. Did you get all of yours?" He nods and checks himself over in much the same fashion as I did. My head feels fuzzy and my vision has white dots dancing at the edges. I remember that tracker jacker venom is known to cause hallucinations and death in cases where a lot of stings are received. I see Peeta rubbing his eyes and realize that he's experiencing the same visual issues that I am. "How many times were you hit?" I demand angrily.

"Two," he retorts. "I got stung twice. How about you?"

"Two also. I don't think its bad enough to put me completely down. We should be okay." I say and back out of the mud and water to find a convenient rock to collapse on. I glance at him as he takes a seat on a nearby log. The muck coats him from head to foot. He's still clutching his spear and I look down to verify that my sword is still swinging from my hip. I'm gratified that I've managed to keep not only that but the knife I had tucked into my belt before leaving the Cornucopia. "Did you see what happened after the hive fell?"

He smirks in my direction and nods his head. "Marvel is gone. The hive landed practically on his feet. Clove headed back to camp. I don't know if she was stung or not. Katniss was headed deeper into the woods. Glimmer followed her. I don't know if she was stung or not. I couldn't get to her. So I just grabbed you and ran as fast as I could."

I grin at his tone. "I appreciate your help. Honestly, I can't believe that you didn't just run."

He laughs and lets out a frustrated sigh, "I thought about it. I won't lie. But we're allies so I couldn't just leave you there." His eyes glaze over and I know he's thinking about Katniss. "I couldn't get to her. There was no way for me to reach her." He pauses and his gaze swings up to intersect mine. "Will Glimmer try to kill her? She was hot on her trail when I last saw them."

"I don't know, Peeta. They will be concentrating more on getting away rather than killing each other. I don't know what will happen." I comment into the quiet. My ally bites his lip and I can see his mind whirling. "We should rest up here, refill our water, and look for them in the morning. It will be easier once the sun comes up."

He studies me, his eyes thoughtful. Finally, he nods in agreement and retrieves the pack that had fallen to the ground when he dove headfirst into the pool. He removes the canteen and bottle of iodine. I find my pack further back in the trees and take a few moments to gather my thoughts as I search out the bottle. Would those girls try to kill each other or would yet another unlikely alliance form? I don't know. I guess we'll get our answers in the sky tonight. With this dour thought running through my head, I sink my canteen into the cold murky water.

. . . . .

Katniss ran blindly through the woods in the direction of the river. She knew that water was the best chance of getting away from the angry insects that she unleashed on the Career pack. She almost fainted when she realized Peeta was with them. By then, it was too late to change her plan. The Careers had her treed along with Rue even though they hadn't realized it. When Marvel had spotted the little District Eleven tribute, it turned Katniss' stomach. She had watched the scene unfold in horror as Clove's knife buried itself in Rue's chest. She had already cut the branch with the hive attached to use as a last resort if she had to. When she saw that Rue was caught, all she could think about was Prim. She had simply reacted. She had only a few inches of the branch left to cut when Rue was killed. She broke it free of the trunk and dropped it practically in Marvel's lap. She was slightly disappointed that Clove didn't get hit also. The chaos had allowed her to escape more or less intact. She had seen Peeta dragging the boy from Two with him as he hit the tree line. She hoped he knew what he was doing.

She entered the woods with a few of the golden wasps flicking about her head. She pulled up her hood to protect her head and dropped her chin into her chest to cover her face as much as possible. She continued to move quickly pulling her sleeves over her hands to give them some protection. She heard branches cracking and turned just as Glimmer slammed into her. The girls hit the dirt and rolled as a tangled mass into the trunk of a nearby tree. Katniss pulled her knife from her belt and swiftly found her footing. She swung around and found the blond still sprawled at the base of the tree. Glimmer sat up slowly and reached for the sword still hanging from her side. Seeing Katniss, she smiled and dropped her hand. Katniss scowled but lowered her knife. She eyed the blond distrustfully. Glimmer held her arms out to her sides well away from her weapon. Katniss finally relented and lowered the knife to her side.

"Hey, Girl of Fire," Glimmer commented into the continuing silence. "I've heard a lot about you."

Katniss raised a questioning brow and returned, "Hello. Just so we know where we stand, you shouldn't believe everything you hear. There's a lot of nonsense flying around. "

Glimmer laughed softly, "Normally, I would agree with you but I think it's from a reliable source. Lover Boy is quite amusing when he talks to himself. You really should try to break him of that habit. He gives a lot of secrets away."

Katniss grinned tightly, "I guess it's a good thing that I'm an open book then. Peeta doesn't know anything that isn't already common knowledge."

Glimmer shakes her head. "I know this isn't common knowledge. There's been too much speculation about your eleven. You can find out some interesting information if you keep your mouth shut and let others do the talking. Like I said, he tends to mutter when he's upset. He's been very talkative since the Cornucopia. Quite amusing really."

Katniss felt the muscles in her stomach tighten as anxiety took hold. What was this girl's plan? Was she trying to get her to drop her guard so that she could put a knife in her back? Katniss decided to back away and head deeper into the trees. Once she was hidden from view, she would double back and run her snare line before heading to a different area. This one had become much too crowded and haunted to suit her. "Look," she said, watching the girl carefully. "I don't really care what Peeta Mellark mutters to himself. I've got better things to do like find shelter and a new water supply. You can do whatever you want. I'm getting out of here." She had just made it into the trees when the blonde's voice stopped her cold.

"You don't want the bow and arrows after I went through such an effort to get them for you." Glimmer stated. "I almost had to to take them out of Clove's hands. Luckily, Lover Boy distracted her. I didn't want to have to fight for them."

Katness spun on her heel and eyed the blond in disgust, "You got them for me? Do you honestly think I'm going to fall for that?"

Glimmer met her glare for glare. The blond spat derisively, "I don't care what you believe. Peeta wanted you to have the bow. He couldn't get to it in time. I got it instead."

Katniss paused. The blond seemed sincere but she couldn't help but be wary. The Careers were known to play tricks and excel in convoluted strategies. "Why? What's in it for you?"

"I owed Peeta a favor. He did something really nice for me and I wanted to return the gesture. He told District Two about the roof garden at the Training Center. It probably sounds stupid but I had let the waiting get to me. Peeta made the suggestion for Cato to take me to the roof." Glimmer's face tinted red. "Not that there's anything going on with me and Cato. That's ridiculous. It did give me time to get my head together. When I figured out that he was going for the bow, I guessed that it was for you. I picked it up and promised myself that I would give it to you if I got the opportunity." She grinned. "The irony will be when you kill me with it."

Katniss let her gaze wander around the clearing and her shock was evident on her face when she spotted the bow lying at the base of a nearby tree. She kept one eye on Glimmer as she walked over and bent down to pick it up along with the accompanying quiver of arrows. A tightness in her chess loosened at the familiar weight and feel of her chosen weapon in her hand. She met the blonde's wary gaze and questioned, "Why?"

Glimmer shrugged. "I already told you. Are you going to kill me now?"

Katniss stared at her for several minutes before shaking her head silently. She pulled her water bottle out and tossed it to the blond. "Thank you." she said quietly. "I want to be clear. This settles the debt between us. After today, I owe you nothing." Glimmer nodded as if it were of little consequence then took several slow sips of water. She dug out a packet of dried fruit and tossed it to Katniss.

"So do we split up now or are we going to hang out a little longer?" Glimmer asked.

Katniss mulled it over and gave her a quizzical glance. Seeing nothing in Glimmer's expression to cause alarm, Katniss decided to take a chance. "Let's stick together for now. Just long enough to get patched up, get a drink, and something to eat. After that, we can decide where we're going."

Glimmer smiled slightly and met Katniss' eyes squarely. "That sounds like a plan. What do you say to dried beef and cheese? The fruit can be saved for desert."

Katniss smirked, "I'd say that sounds good." As the blond climbed slowly to her feet, Katniss stared off into the trees where she last caught a glimpse of Peeta. She smiled to herself. Even in the arena, Peeta was still watching out for her. She knew now what his reasons were for such actions. She still couldn't understand why he chose her to have such feelings for. She vowed to find him soon so she could get the answer to that question.

End Part 7

A/N Anybody surprised? I think that things will get very interesting from here. If you have any likes, gripes, opinions, or thoughts about this story then I'd love to hear them. Review and let me know what you think...Until then, Salanderjade.


	8. Pyramids and Pyrotechnics

Oh, Please A Cato Story

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I just like to mess with them for my own amusement.

A/N As a reminder, I am diverting from canon to suit the needs of this story. Please no flames but REVIEWS are welcome and encouraged! Let me know what you're thinking!

PART 8: Pyramids and Pyrotechnics

The evening had proven somewhat torturous for both girls. While both had made overtures to build a tentative trust, neither was ready nor willing to yield. Katniss had wanted to find a tree and strap in. However, she didn't want to reveal all of her tricks to the Career, bow or no bow. Glimmer wasn't used to doing without, much less making do. She continually pressed to head toward the Cornucopia. She seemed certain that Peeta and Cato would return to that spot. Katniss agreed but also pointed out that Clove would also go to the familiar spot. She didn't want to approach the area unless there was enough daylight to fully assess the situation. Katniss finally found a snug copse that blocked most of the wind and concealed them from casual passersby.

The sky has just started to brighten when Glimmer opened her eyes and took in her surroundings. She could just see the pink-gold tones carving paths into the darkness. She raised herself up on elbow and looked around for her reluctant partner. What she found made her jaw drop. A small fire blazed in a concealed fold in the thicket. It was small enough that it would be completely hidden from prying eyes outside of the grove. It was fueled by dry, cured wood so smoke was minimal even sitting mere feet from the fire. There was a spit fashioned from trimmed wood that held a fat rabbit and a couple of squirrels close to the licking flames. A plastic sheet sat close enough to take advantage of the warmth. It held an assortment of nuts, berries, and a few greens. Clearly, Katniss had been busy. Glimmer realized that her tentative ally was offering a truce of sorts. The girl herself was nowhere to be seen.

Glimmer checked her weapons and did a quick inventory of her pack. She heard a slight shift in the branches and turned, knife at the ready. Steely gray eyes met startled green as Katniss wandered back into their campsite. She had the bow slung on her back and a coarse woven bag on her hip. She bent to the skewer and examined the roasting meat. Satisfied with what she found, she took a seat on a fallen log and began to unpack the spoils of her morning hunt. "If you'll take care of the stuff on the fire, I'll get the rest of our breakfast set up." Glimmer nodded and pulled the rod free of the cross braces. The meat was perfectly cooked. She carefully pulled it free and laid it on a wide flat leaf to cool. Katniss nodded approvingly, her hands competently sorting out the roots, herbs, and greens that she had gathered. Once all the meat had been separated, she set the bag aside and the two girls divided up the meal.

"So you want to head to the Cornucopia, right?" Katniss asked as she settled back into the log.

Glimmer hastily swallowed a mouthful of greens and nodded. "I still think that is where Cato will go. We still have supplies there. Clove will head back there too. The boy from District Three, Joule, will probably be hanging around also."

Katniss choked and had to take a few moments to cough and sip water before she was able to continue. "The boy from District Three is hanging around the Cornucopia? You Careers are really changing tactics this year, aren't you?"

Glimmer chuckled at her disgusted tone. "Hey, don't blame us. Peeta takes sole responsibility for that one. He had set this up prior to us coming to the Arena. So you had no idea about any of it?" Katniss shook her head wordlessly. "You didn't even know he had feeling for you prior to him announcing it to the world?" Again the silent headshake. Glimmer snorted in disbelief, "Say what you will about the boy, he has a talent for dramatic gestures. The Capital will be talking about these Games for years."

The familiar scowl from the Training Center settles firmly on Katniss' features. "I don't need any grand gestures from Peeta Mellark. I just want to get home to my sister."

Glimmer looked at her quizzically. "So you're saying that you don't care for him at all. He means nothing to you."

The flush of red that swept up to her hairline was all the answer that Glimmer needed. Still, Katniss managed to surprise her. "I don't know what he means to me," she muttered, her hands clinched on her bow. "I never thought about it. Love and everything that goes with it wasn't something I gave a high priority back home." She bit her lip, gray eyes lost and hazy. "We had to eat. I had to take care of my sister. I didn't have time for all of that."

Glimmer watched as her fingers twisted around the bow. Something else was going on here. "Katniss are you okay?" she asked warily. "I didn't mean to…" She trailed off, unsure exactly what it was that she had stumbled into. The girl was a walking mass of contradictions. She didn't fit into any of the usual categories which left Glimmer floundering. "I didn't mean to pry," she finished.

Katniss glanced at the blonde, her expression guarded. "Don't worry about it. You didn't pry." She laughed suddenly. "I'm not exactly good at girl talk. Don't take it personally."

They finished up the meal, packed up the extra rations, and cleared away the remains of the makeshift camp. Each girl situated their packs and weapons, and then Glimmer kicked dirt over the remnants of the fire. They paused to get their bearings and soon headed off in the direction of the Cornucopia. The further they walked, the more tense and edgy Katniss became. Glimmer put a restraining hand on her arm and plopped down on a convenient flat rock. "Look, if you don't want to go to the Cornucopia then don't go. I can find my own way back. I'll let Peeta know where you're headed. "

She hesitated just a moment, her gaze sweeping the surrounding woods and then swung resolutely back to Glimmer. "No, I'm coming with you. There's something I have to do and I might not get another chance. Let's go. At this rate, it will be midday before we get there." Glimmer shot her an exasperated look but climbed back to her feet and followed her deeper into the trees.

They walked for several more minutes before curiosity overpowered the reluctance to pry. Glimmer tossed a brief glance at the girl walking so silently beside her and then asked, "What do you mean you might not get another chance? What do you have to do?"

Katniss actually cracked a smile, "Did you forget where we are? Arena? Hunger Games? Fight to the death? Any of this ringing a bell for you?"

Glimmer couldn't stop the peal of laughter that bubbled up. "I didn't know you were such a comedian, Girl on Fire. Seriously though, what do you need to do? It sounded important."

Katniss' expression closed up, the walls visibly rebuilding themselves. "We need to figure out the best approach otherwise this idiotic plan will get us both killed. I don't think we will be able to walk straight in. Is there another way that you know of?"

Glimmer rolled her eyes but decided not to push the matter further. "There is a shorter path on the lake side which offers a little more cover. Clove is sure to be watching for us. She won't be able to guard every path in. She'll be facing the most direct route with her back to the Horn. That's what I would do."

Katniss nodded. "That makes sense. We need to be able to see if Peeta made it back." She glanced at Glimmer almost apologetically. "If he's there, then Cato will be too." It was Glimmer's turn to feel her cheeks heat and Katniss' to crack a grin. "I take it that a little more than getting your head straight happened on that roof."

Glimmer sent her a look of pure mortification causing the taciturn girl from District Twelve to actually giggle. "Don't expect me to share my secrets when you won't answer a simple question," Glimmer grated out. "You tell me what's got you so anxious to see Lover Boy and I'll tell you what happened on the roof."

They had stopped once more, both glaring at the other. Finally Katniss blew out a frustrated breath and said, "I have to ask him a question and I have to tell him thank you. Are you happy now?" She turned on her heel and stalked off into the trees, leaving Glimmer to stare after her in amazement. She laughed softly and followed her through the brush. Katniss heard her steps trailing behind and resolutely kept her eyes forward.

She didn't want to discuss Peeta with this girl. She didn't want to open her feelings up for scrutiny to outsiders. Anything she told Glimmer would be broadcast to all of Panem. It was her business alone what her feelings were. It was her debt to Peeta that she needed to resolve before one or both of them died. The rest was immaterial. However, she did still owe this girl regardless of whether she liked it or not. The very act of bringing her the bow went against every supposed rule of the Games. Katniss was willing to bet that somewhere a Gamesmaker was plotting how they would pay for their actions. Both pairs were essentially turning every accepted tenet of the Games on its head. The Capital couldn't be happy with the unusual alliances that had spawned so far.

Finally the faint twinges of guilt got to her and Katniss stopped once more and sat down on a handily placed log. Glimmer took a seat close by and eyed her expectantly. Katniss sighed and spoke softly, "When I was eleven, my father died in a mining explosion. What money that we got afterward ran out fairly quickly. We almost starved. Peeta deliberately took a beating to burn bread and give it to me. He saved my family. He saved me. I never thanked him. That is why I need to see him again so that I can tell him that."

Glimmer thought back to the scene at the Cornucopia. Peeta had distracted the boy from District Four to keep him from killing Cato. It had saved Cato's life. He had seen Glimmer at her worst in the cafeteria the night before the Games and had taken steps to alleviate her distress. He had given Cato the location of the rooftop garden. That brief respite had allowed her to stay sane. She shook her head in disbelief. Peeta didn't belong in this Arena. His empathy and willingness to help others had set him apart from the other tributes. That goodness was pulling out the same qualities in the others, including her. She would never have considered prior to coming to the Capital that she would voluntarily bring the highest scoring tribute in training her weapon of choice. She would never have considered kissing a fellow tribute out of gratitude rather than as a strategy to help her win. Things had gone down a strange path since meeting the star-crossed lovers of District Twelve.

Katniss watched her changing expressions with interest. She nervously chewed her bottom lip as she waited for Glimmer's response. Glimmer shook her head and grinned, "He's too good to be true. Did he have this guardian angel complex back in Twelve?"

Katniss smiled sadly, "He's the Boy with the Bread. He's the best person that I know."

Glimmer regarded her solemnly, the words and the meaning behind them clear despite the girl's attempts to downplay them. She loved Peeta Mellark, whether she knew it or not. Glimmer wasn't sure if she was in love with him, but her feelings were as clear as good glass. Glimmer felt a twinge of something like regret flicker within her. Star-crossed had turned out to be an apt description after all. An uncomfortable river of memories trickled up: a helping hand in the training center, a steady hand calmly reaching her a glass of water at the interview; an unexpected visit to a rooftop garden culminating in an unforeseen kiss. Would any of those events have occurred without the influence of Peeta Mellark? Glimmer didn't think so. The regretful twinge twisted her insides yet again. She didn't know what she felt toward the District Two tribute. She didn't want to open up that door. The Hunger Games meant that nothing could come from these errant feelings. There was only one winner. Any other outcome was impossible.

The golden glint of the massive horn could just be seen through the trees. Katniss and Glimmer found a convenient observation point in a low growing thicket. They huddled down just within the encircling branches and watched as Clove and the boy from District Three argued. Their words didn't carry enough to hear what was being said. However, it was abundantly clear that Clove was furious and the boy was taking the brunt of that anger. The argument was interrupted by the appearance of a familiar pair. They strolled out of the woods on the far side of the plain. They walked openly toward the Cornucopia, making no attempt to hide. Glimmer heard Katniss huff of displeasure and felt like echoing her. They were either supremely confident or abysmally stupid.

It was readily apparent that Clove had spotted them. She edged up on tiptoe, shading her eyes with her hand. She said a few words to the spindly boy and then stomped off in their direction. Peeta and Cato halted, waiting for her to approach them. Peeta seemed to tense, his hand straying to his belt. Cato put a restraining hand on his arm, and then called out to Clove. She answered irritably, her own hand concealed within her jacket. Cato irately commented again and her hand fell to her side. Peeta leaned carelessly on his spear once her hands became visible. He listened to the exchange, his head moving back and forth between them.

Katniss elbowed Glimmer and brought her attention back to the boy waiting and watching by the Cornucopia. Glimmer narrowed her eyes questioningly and then gasped when she caught sight of the new form sneaking warily toward the pyramid. At this distance, it was difficult to discern faces but the relative size discounted Thresh. That meant that it could only be the male from District Ten. His plan was apparently to take advantage of the Career's absence to obtain some critical supplies. The District Three tribute spotted the trespasser and moved to intercept. District Ten, however, had the advantage of size and the element of surprise. The mace solidly connected with District Three's head, sending him immediately to the beaten earth of the plain. The cannon fire alerted the others to the intruder. Three heads swing about and they quickly begin to move in the pyramid's direction.

Glimmer cursed and immediately burst through the brush to assist the others. Katniss hesitated, but when she saw Peeta join in; she nocked an arrow and trailed Glimmer onto the plain. Her eyes furiously scanned the immediate area, searching for targets. District Ten saw that he was no longer alone and dived toward the supplies, intent on getting what items he could. Peeta's warning shout still hung in the air when the first bombs exploded.

The bombs that were originally situated beneath the twenty-four tribute plates had been unearthed and buried in a random pattern around the huge pile of supplies. The boy from District Three had used his knowledge of electronics and explosives to buy himself a few more days of existence from the Careers. When District Ten triggered the pressure sensor on the nearest bomb, it automatically signaled the other mines to explode. Within moments, the mountain of goodies had been reduced to smoldering rubble. The damage wasn't limited to just the camp and supplies. It wreaked havoc on the remaining tributes as well. The explosion was massive. Clove was knocked off her feet and landed fifteen feet away from where she was standing at the time of the explosion. Cato had turned back toward the trees, the shockwave of the blast knocking him face first into the scree. The loose gravel tore gashes into his hands and knees, the result of which was blood running freely from the injured area.

Peeta had actually run toward the pyramid and the tribute that had unintentionally set his own death in motion. The detonation flung debris in an ever widening circle and it rained down on the plain. Peeta lost his footing and stumbled to his knees. He cried out, having seen District Ten's legs being ripped free of his body and careening into the lake. His initial sound of anguish still echoed in the still morning air when another cry was torn from him. Glimmer saw the heavy piece of metal torn from the Cornucopia itself crash into him, cutting his thigh deeply. Red droplets fanned out and he clasped his leg, a grimace of pain etched on his face. Glimmer found her feet and ran toward her allies, her pack swinging from her hand. Katniss was thrown backwards, taking most of the impact on her right side. She hurriedly climbed to her feet and darted after Glimmer. Blood ran down the left side of her face, originating from her ear. She shook her head and pawed at the ear, trying to clear the ringing and tightness.

Her attention was drawn to Peeta and the red stream that flowed copiously down his leg. She ripped the pack from her shoulder and skidded to a halt beside him. His blue eyes, large in his pale face, darted up at her approach and his jaw dropped open in shock. She pushed the tangled curls away from his forehead and ordered, "Let me see, Peeta. How bad is it?" She pulled his fingers away from his injured leg and bent to get a closer look. He couldn't move as he realized that she wasn't a figment of his imagination. He hissed between clinched teeth as her fingers probed the cut. Her hands came away coated in red and he winced as she calmly wiped his blood on her jacket. "It's a clean cut but it needs to be stitched up. We need this wound dressed before it sets up infection. Can you walk?" Gray eyes met hazy, startled blue and Katniss asked again. "Peeta, can you walk?" He finally registered what she was asking him and nodded numbly. "Okay," she said as she removed her jacket, folded it and tied it around his thigh. She slid an arm around his shoulders and eased him into a sitting position. "You're going to have to help me. I can't lift you by myself. I need to get you out of here where I can take care of your leg."

Peeta stared at her as if he hadn't seen her in years. He reached up and gently touched the end of her braid. "Katniss, you're really here." He whispered. "You're okay. I knew that you were. I hoped that you were."

She retorted, "Peeta, I'm fine but you're not. I need you to help me get you out of here. We have to get your leg cleaned up." She looped her arms underneath his and braced firmly against him. He nodded once and grunted as she heaved him to his feet. He leaned heavily on her, and visibly struggled as they made their way slowly to where Glimmer and Cato waited. The blonde girl appeared unmarked. The District Two tribute, however, wasn't as lucky. His hands and knees were shredded, gravel still embedded in the cuts. A bloody gash traversed his forehead, bisecting one eyebrow. The eye beneath it was swollen shut and covered in a purplish-black bruise. Glimmer had propped him up with both of their packs and cleaned his cuts as best as she could. She came to Katniss' aid and took Peeta's other arm. Together, they brought him the last few feet and eased him down beside Cato. The two boys eyed each other closely. Peeta then caught sight of the drying blood trailing down Katniss' face. He motioned her in, concern written large on his face despite his pain. She shook her head wordlessly and touched her ear. The hearing was still muffled and quiet. The explosion had caused damage but she couldn't tell how badly it was hurt.

Peeta narrowed his eyes as he noted her continued fidgeting. "Katniss," he said sharply. "Come here and let me see. You're hurt." She gave him an aggravated look but consented and knelt down beside him. He pushed her hair away and examined the blood encrusted ear. He snapped his fingers and was gratified when her head turned toward the sound. "Looks like we need to get you cleaned up too. Do you have the first aid kit and I'll get you fixed up?"

Katniss smiled slightly but shook her head. "We need to get under cover. We're sitting ducks here. I'll be okay until then." She bent over his leg and adjusted her jacket to more firmly cover the cut in his thigh. "Can you walk some more? I think I know a good place but I can't carry you that far. You will have to help me." He smiled back, his hand tugging absently at her braid once more. She batted his fingers away but squeezed them gently before dropping his hand into his lap. She glanced at Glimmer and questioned, "Is he okay to travel? We can't stay here."

Glimmer eyed Cato carefully and reluctantly nodded. "He can't go far. His knees are badly torn. He's going to need stitches." She gestured to Clove's prone form. "What are we going to do about her?"

Katniss shrugged her gray eyes hard as she regarded the unconscious girl. "Leave her here. I'm not going to waste the energy to carry her. She'd probably try to slit my throat and I don't want to fight someone I'm trying to help." Glimmer laughed softly and immediately agreed. The two boys exchanged glances and then nodded their acceptance as well. "Okay. There are some caves just above the river. That is the only shelter that I've found nearby. It's close to water and we should be able to get there while there is still light."

Glimmer stated, "That's as good a plan as any. Will they be able make it with their legs in this condition? Neither one can handle much of a hike." Katniss looked thoughtful, and then shook her head. "Okay, Girl on Fire. We've got our plan. You take Lover Boy. I'll take Dead Weight here. Let's try and get to these caves of yours."

"Dead weight?" Cato questioned tersely. "You are actually calling me Dead Weight."

Glimmer smirked at his offended tone, "Yes, I'm calling you dead weight. You didn't even attempt to help a few minutes ago. I'm not going to lug you halfway around this Arena. You're going to have to pull your weight, Sweetheart. I'd hate to have to leave you here with Sleeping Beauty." Katniss and Peeta shared an amused glance at the disgruntled expression on Cato's face. He looked from one to the other and reluctantly let the argument go. Glimmer turned back to Katniss. "Let's do this."

Katniss grinned and pulled Peeta back to his feet. He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze, causing her to shoot him a baleful glance. Glimmer tugged Cato into a standing position and blew out an irritated breath when he deliberately rested most of his weight on her. She cocked a questioning brow up at him and frowned when he chuckled softly. He shifted until his good leg supported his weight and she smiled up at him encouragingly. The resulting flutter in his stomach caused him to stumble again. "I said for you to help me. You don't have to do it alone, brainless. Lean on me. We'll get there if we work together." He returned her tentative smile with one of his own and matched his step with hers. They followed the star-crossed pair into the tree line, moving toward the setting sun and waiting caves.. They left behind one unconscious tribute, an enthralled Capital audience, and a furious President who watched their shuffling progress with heated, wrathful eyes.

End Part 8

A/N Next is my little version of the Cave scene. As you've no doubt guessed, we've got an additional pair holed up in the infamous caves...this opens up all sorts of interesting possibilities. Thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/alerted this story. My eternal thanks and gratitude. Until next time, Salanderjade.


	9. The Cave

Oh, Please (A Cato Story)

A/N Canon has been twisted to fit the framework of this story….please review if it pleases you. It would definitely make my day!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I just like to play with the characters for my own amusement.

Part 9: The Cave

The rain had been coming down in buckets for hours without fail. The river, once so placid and clear, was now a raging muddy torrent. The small cave was dank and chilly; the fog shrouded air lying heavily atop the dripping bushes and trees. I sit at the mouth and watch the surroundings for any signs of either game or tributes. The supplies that we had managed to scavenge from the remains of the Cornucopia would hold us over for a couple of days but not for long. Katniss had made a few noises about hunting, but it was obvious that until the rain ended; those supplies would have to do unless a particularly generous sponsor sent a little something. I knew that the likelihood of that happening was slim but I held out some hope. I had no great tolerance for starvation.

A shoe scuffing against stone reaches my ears and my hand moves toward my sword before I stop it. Glimmer slides into view and eases down beside me. Her hair is pulled back and secured with one of Katniss' ties. Her eyes flicker to meet mine and then sweep the sopping foliage. She has a small knife clutched in one hand and idly flips it between her fingers as she stares out into the rain. "Do you think this will last much longer?" She questions lightly. I shrug noncommittally and she sighs. "We need to talk about Peeta. His leg is getting worse. Katniss managed to clean and treat the wound but she couldn't stitch it up. There was nothing in the first aid kit for that. He's running a fever. She thinks that infection is setting in."

I swear foully under my breath. The stupid fool had been injured in the blast that took out the supply stores. He had actually been running toward the explosion rather than away. When the idiot from Ten tripped the booby trap, the Cornucopia had been ripped apart with shards flying thickly across the plain. One had torn a nasty gash in Peeta's thigh. Katniss had managed to stop the bleeding and once we had reached the caves, her first priority had been to take care of him. I glance back into the murk and see them huddled together in the darkness. She had procured a sleeping bag and tucked Peeta into it as soon as his leg was securely bandaged. He had declined some type of meat that she offered him. She had finally coaxed him to eat a mixture of mint and berries gathered before the rain began. He had eventually fallen asleep, her hand held firmly in his. She had attempted to move away but every time he would stir and his hand would flail searchingly until she clasped it once more. She had finally come to the inevitable conclusion that to get him to rest, she would have to stay close by.

"Is she certain that it is infection and not just a virus of some kind? She said that there was no swelling or inflammation present earlier. We haven't exactly been living in the most sanitary conditions the past couple of days. He could have caught anything." I ask hopefully. The trainer had warned us prior to the games that fifteen percent of us would die from infection in the Arena. Medicine was at a premium even during the early stages. If he had picked up a virus, then that was just a matter of food, rest, and keeping him hydrated while he recovered. If his wound became infected, it would be a different game entirely. He would surely die without the proper medication. I could only hope that the former was the case. The latter would force me to take an action that I found decidedly distasteful. This was the Hunger Games and I am a District Two tribute. That didn't change the fact that I didn't want to be the one to kill Peeta Mellark. Nor did I want to watch him suffer through a bout of blood poisoning. The humane choice would be to end him as swiftly and painlessly as possible before it got to that point. I didn't want to have to make that call nor have to deal with Katniss Everdeen afterward.

Glimmer shook her head. "It's not certain yet. She gave him some fever medicine. The leg was clean and didn't seem to be causing him undue pain. I'm sure that she will check it when he wakes up." She continued to spin the knife carelessly through her fingers. "If it is infection, then it will be practically impossible to save him. Should we even try? My mentor is probably spitting tacks at this point anyway. This alliance goes against everything she told me to do." She chuckles quietly. "No wonder I haven't received anything from a sponsor. She's probably waiting until I slit all of your throats in your sleep before sending me something. "

My hand makes an instinctive motion toward my sword before I can halt the movement. She sees it and smiles wryly. I hold my hands up and she snorts in amusement again. I comment into the ensuing silence. "My mentor probably wants you to slit my throat at this point. He knew that I had made an alliance with Peeta but he thought it was a ploy to find Katniss. He wanted her out of the way early because of that eleven in training. It's just a guess but I'll bet she's very good with that bow, isn't she?" Glimmer nodded solemnly and it was now my turn to smile. "You took that weapon from the Cornucopia solely to give it to her at first opportunity, didn't you?" She sighed and confirmed it. "Well, well. Looks like I'm not the only one who would have some explaining to do if the mentors could get us alone for a minute."

She opened her mouth to no doubt give me a scathing retort but the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith drowned out even the pounding rain. "Attention, tributes. There has been change in the rules. Henceforth, there can be two Victors providing that they come from the same district. That is all." I can feel my jaw drop in astonishment and am gratified to see Glimmer mirror my expression. This announcement could change everything. Almost involuntarily, both of our gazes find the pair nestled together in the rear of the cave. Glimmer swallows heavily and puts a tentative hand on my arm, "You should go. Go now before something happens. "

My eyes dart up in astonishment. "Leave? Why? Do you think you will have an easier time with them if I'm not here? What possible good can come from my leaving now?"

Glimmer glares at me, eyes an emerald fire in the dusky light. "You don't want to kill them. Neither do I. They have an agenda for making such a change. They want to split us up. You have the opportunity to go home and take your district partner with you. If you choose to stay here and win, you will be reviled when you go home. You should go before they decide to force the issue. Peeta and Katniss are obviously popular with the Capital crowd so they will want to have the possibility of them going home together. Your being here with me after this doesn't make sense even though we are traditional allies. You should go now. It's what they want."

I shake my head insistently, "What if I don't care about what they want? I won't leave like this. Not until I'm sure that Peeta is well enough to fend for himself. After that, it will be best if we part ways. He has saved me at least twice. I owe him that much."

She smiles sadly, "I hope you know what you're doing. You may be signing your own death warrant by not seeking Clove out. She won't be forgiving. Neither will your mentors. Gratitude has no place here, Cato. "

I give her the same smile and ask quietly, "If gratitude has no place here, then why did you give her that bow? I know it's not because you wanted to give her a sporting chance." She shrugs uncomfortably. I watch her carefully and continue, "I don't care if my mentor or Clove forgives me or not. I won't leave until Peeta is back on his feet. I won't leave you here alone. Get any thoughts of my leaving out of your head. It's not going to happen."

Her brow furrows in confusion and she looks at me questioningly, "Won't leave me alone? What are you talking about? Why would you stay for my sake?"

I can't keep the surprise from registering on my face. "I..uhh…I thought that we…I just…" The stuttered reply clearly shocks her because her eyes widen as they meet mine. Embarrassed, I can only drop my gaze to the hands knotted so tightly in my lap. I've been a fool. That much is clear. She's absolutely right. I should leave. The thought paralyzes me. I can't go yet. I have no idea what holds me here beyond the debt that I owe Peeta Mellark but the thought of walking away from this girl is abhorrent to me. I can't label it but I understand the truth behind it. I don't want to leave her.

A flicker of understanding dawns on her features and her jaw sags slightly. She puts a hand on top of mine and squeezes slightly before letting go. "One kiss doesn't make love, Cato. I won't deny that I enjoyed it because I did. I'm grateful for everything that you did for me at the Training Center. If we were anywhere but here, I would like to see where this goes. But we both know there is only room for one star-crossed pair in this Arena. That's not you and me. Anything else would be fooling ourselves. I won't do that. "

I grin at the declaration. This girl never ceases to surprise me. I can't help but laugh as her words continue to echo in my ears. "I have no intention of being star-crossed, Glimmer. I know that one kiss doesn't mean you love me. I'd be shocked if it did. I don't love you either. I want to be clear about that. I am drawn to you. I do have feelings for you but I don't love you yet. "

"Yet?" She breathes out. "You sound like you've given this some thought. What do you mean yet?"

I shift uncomfortably against the rough wall at my back, unsure how to continue. My gaze flickers back to the pair at the back of the cave. He's awake now and they are speaking quietly. I hear a fragment…"two braids and a red dress…goner" and have to smile. Peeta has a way with words. I wish for a brief moment that I could borrow his talent. I find my tongue to be tangled and an unaccustomed nervousness knotting my belly. His words in the medical bay echo in my head. 'You don't love anyone yet but you're falling. I recognize the signs.' I had denied it at the time whole-heartedly. I still wanted to but knew that I would be lying to myself if I did. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay here. Can't that be enough?"

She smiles and I feel the lump in my stomach loosen a little. "Of course it's enough. But we're in the Hunger Games. You know how this is going to end. This will only cause us pain. Is that what you want?"

I can't help but grin back, my hand reaching to cover hers. "I do know how this will end. It just makes me want to take advantage of every moment that we have until the inevitable happens. What do you say?"

She looks at our joined hands and I can see conflicting emotions chasing each other on her face. "It's a stupid thought and an unnecessary risk. Will you kill me when the time comes? Will it be that easy for you?"

"I promise you that I will keep you safe as long as I can. I also promise that I'll never hurt you. I won't be the one who sends you home in a box. I care too much for you to do that." Her breath hitches and I press on. "Give us this time. It's all that we'll ever have. We should take it." Her fingers tighten on mine and she nods shakily. A drawn out long breath escapes me. Inside, I feel both joy and dread arch through my chest. I would like to strangle Peeta. I could have remained peacefully oblivious if not for him. She watches me carefully, eyes intent on mine. Then it happens again. Her lips meet mine briefly. The warmth shocks me. The conflicting emotions in my gut swirls into a roiling mass that pushes me into her embrace even as my mind frantically tells me that I've lost my mind. I ignore my mind and let myself lean into the kiss that she's initiated. A chiming bell interrupts and I pull myself away from her to see what the noise is. A silver parachute floats down right outside the cave. I rush out and grab it then slip back into the confines of the cave dragging my prize behind me.

Peeta and Katniss are still conversing quietly in the back of the cave. I hear him say almost hesitantly, "I don't have much competition here." She retorts just as hesitantly, "You don't have much competition anywhere." She leans into him and their lips have just met when the chiming outside catches my attention again. Another parachute has fallen to the earth outside. Katniss scrambles out and grabs the package, hope dawning clearly in her eyes. She pushes back the fabric and opens up the basket revealing a veritable feast. She smiles widely and motions us forward as she carries the basket to where Peeta lays quietly. His wan face brightens at the appearance of the food. Katniss, however, looks disappointed as she reaches the bottom of the basket. She quickly schools her features and turns to Peeta, "Now you'll have to eat. You like the lamb stew as much as I do. You need to keep up your strength." She begins to dish out a generous portion and ignores his protests that she's giving him too much. Glimmer snorts in amusement and I can't help but laugh myself at his predicament. She won't be swayed from her campaign. He will either eat on his own or she will assist him. He clearly reaches this conclusion himself because he rolls his eyes and then reaches for the laden plate. Seeing that he is going to follow orders, she nods satisfied and then serves the rest of us.

The stew is warm and hearty. It chases the dampness that seems to have settled into my bones from the combination of the storm and the dank cave. The mood is almost festive as we eat the savory stew, fresh rolls, and fruit. Peeta manages to consume most of the contents of his plate but he's clearly not feeling well. Katniss sighs but takes his plate and sets it aside. She places a hand on his forehead and frowns slightly. She fumbles for the first aid kit and hands over two more of the fever pills and a quart of water. He grimaces slightly but swallows the pills along with most of the contents of the bottle. She eases him back into the sleeping bag and bends to check the leg. Her hastily indrawn breath gives me all the information that I need. I move closer to confirm what I already know.

The leg is swollen and tight. Small streaks of red trace lines on his leg both above and below the cut. She gives him a bright smile and gently rewinds the bandage. She takes a moment to smooth the hair off his forehead and leans forward to kiss him briefly. "We'll get you some medicine. You'll be fine. Until then, you need to eat and keep up your strength. Promise me, Peeta." He nods carefully and his eyes flicker to mine. I can see that he doesn't have a great deal of faith in what he's agreeing to. He gives her a wide, clear smile and pulls her down until her head rests on his heart. I catch his eye over her shoulder and he shakes his head. Stupid fool. He doesn't deserve this. I feel my fist clinch and Glimmer puts a soothing hand on my back. She leads me back to the front of the cave to give them a few moments of privacy. I feel my teeth grinding together as I follow her blindly.

Katniss joins us in a few moments, her face drawn and worried. I give her a sympathetic look and wait for her to speak. She doesn't keep me waiting long. "It's blood poisoning. If it's not treated soon, it will kill him. I don't know what to do. Please. Tell me what to do. I can't let him die." Glimmer lets go of my hand to clutch Katniss' encouragingly. "There is no way that Haymitch could get enough from sponsors to pay for it. That kind of medicine would have come at a premium from the start. I can't sit here and watch him die. What can I do?"

I open my mouth to try and offer her some encouragement. The booming voice of Claudius Templesmith drowns out every other sound for the second time that day. "Attention, Tributes. Commencing at sunrise, there will be a Feast at the Cornucopia. This will be no ordinary Feast. Each of you needs something desperately. We plan on being generous hosts. Think twice about declining our offer." All three of us blurt out the word, 'medicine' before thought catches up. A feast automatically turns into a bloodbath similar to the first day. The Games makers never offer a feast unless the tributes have fought each other to a standstill. Obviously, Thresh and the girl from Five have holed up in much the same way that we have. Clove will no doubt be sticking close to the Cornucopia. She won't hunt by herself. She will take targets of opportunity. The feast is actually the perfect scenario for her. The wide plain is ideal for knife throwing. She will be able to take out another tribute relatively easily as they are making the mad dash to the feast bounty. It is obvious that we need to go to acquire the medicine for Peeta's leg. The main point is who will go and who will stay behind.

Katniss immediately informs us that she will be the one to go. She is Peeta's district partner and it is her responsibility. I protest and tell her that he won't allow her to go into a fight without trying to follow her. Glimmer offers to go on her own and Katniss and I immediately shoot that idea down. There is no way that she could hold her own against Thresh. Clove would also be a formidable opponent. I tell both of them that they will stay here with Peeta and I'll go. The resulting protests drown me out.

"It's not that I don't trust you, Two." Katniss blurts out. "It has to be me. I can't explain it better than that."

I shake my head at her stubbornness. "If you go, then I'm going. Peeta won't stay here unless you have protection. You can't watch your back and get the medicine. I can help you."

She huffs angrily and blurts out. "You'll have to stay here to keep him from following me. Glimmer won't be able to hold him. He's too stubborn to listen to sense. I need you here. Glimmer can come if she wishes. She can watch my back as well as you."

I curse. "She won't be able to take on Thresh. If he finds you, then you will both be dead. I can take him. I can head Clove off as well. We can't let her have any supplies. She will be hard enough to kill as it is." As those words leave my mouth, I realize that I have tied myself inextricably with this group. There is no going back now.

Katniss hisses in frustration. We both have valid points and there is no easy solution. "If I had something to knock him out, then we wouldn't have this problem." She paces at the entrance to the cave, her braid swishing like a feral cat tail in her aggravation. "We need to figure out what we're doing soon. I need to get ready. I'll leave just before dawn."

Glimmer's voice stops us both. "I think I can help with knocking him out if that's how you want to do this." Both Katniss and I turn to her in disbelief. My mouth drops open at the silver parachute in her hands. I realize it's the one I had fished out of the rain earlier but neglected to open. She had obviously remedied that while Katniss and I were arguing. The tube is small and filled with a green tinged liquid. I take it carefully from her and hold it up to examine it more closely. Taking a small drop on my finger, I put it carefully in my mouth and smile when the taste explodes on my tongue. Katniss mirrors me and her smile is broad and open. She hand the tube back to Glimmer and nods acceptance. I examine the silver parachute and feel a questioning dread rise up. How did they know sleep syrup would be beneficial? What games were the mentors playing? In any case, we would be headed to the feast come morning. One of us would get the medicine back to Peeta. That had to be done regardless. I felt the nervous knot flare in my stomach again. A price for the gifts at the feast was always expensive. I know that this time will be no exception. I will get Peeta his medicine. I will protect the girls. That is my goal and I won't fail. I can't fail. There is no other acceptable outcome.

End Part 9

A/N I do hope that you have enjoyed my reinterpretation of the cave scene…not quite fluffy but things are definitely more clear than they were. The Feast is next…Poor Peeta… always drugged against his will. Review and let me know what you think. Until next time, Salanderjade.


	10. Feasts and Friendships

Oh, Please (A Cato Story)

A/N Canon has been twisted to fit the story needs. Review if it pleases you! I love hearing from readers!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I just had an unoriginal idea and decided to borrow Suzanne Collins characters. Thanks go to her for creating such amusing playthings.

Part 10: Feasts and Friendships

It was without a doubt one of the strangest sights to grace any Arena. Considering that the Capital was capable of manufacturing any reality it wished, that claim was not one to be made lightly. Three tributes made their way carefully through the trees toward the distant Cornucopia. The announcement of a feast usually had the effect of breaking any existing alliances. These three made no efforts to hide that they were moving as a team. The two girls wore scowls but the boy was laughing openly. The more the girls' expressions darkened, the louder the boy's laughter became. Curiosity gripped most of the viewers watching the broadcast. The mentors of the three alternately cursed and blessed them as the sponsors began to question whether or not the pact would hold. The mentors, being as much in the dark as anyone, could only give vague assurances.

Katniss stomped through the woods, silently cursing Peeta for his ill-advised attempt to prevent a catastrophe. Had he been headed away from the explosion rather than toward it, he more than likely wouldn't have been hurt. Instead, he had given in to his guardian angel tendencies yet again and was wounded because of it. Katniss hoped that they could retrieve the medicine he needed and get back to the cave relatively intact. She feared the efforts were going to cost them massively. She put those thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the task at hand. Another muffled chuckle pulled a scowl from her. She exchanged a glance with Glimmer, who wore her own disgruntled expression. She didn't find the situation comical either. Green eyes and grey narrowed at the blonde boy shuffling along in the rear, laughing quietly to himself.

I couldn't stop myself. Every time that I thought about it, the urge to laugh hit me once more. I knew that it was causing my companions to consider whether or not it was worth listening to my amusement to keep me as an ally. However, their displeasure only served to increase my enjoyment. It was, I admit, probably not funny under normal circumstance. Our current situation, however, was far from normal. Another memory of her blithely mixing the sleep syrup into the berries and mint elicited yet another snicker. He had eaten it unquestioningly right up until the last bite. As his eyes began to close, he realized what she had done. He had attempted to spit it out but the damage had already been done. Katniss whispered, "I'm so sorry" over and over until he finally let go. His eyes had been dark with anger and accusation as they closed. He wouldn't be happy when he woke up. The important thing was that he would awaken and hopefully make a full recovery. That was the goal of this impossible endeavor. I was just glad to be able to find a little bit of levity, however bad the timing.

I can feel grey eyes boring into me again. Catching her gaze, I can't stop myself. The laughter bubbles out until I'm gasping for air with tears streaming down my face. "Sugar berries," I choke out. "I can't believe he fell for that. My God, he's got it bad." Her hand twitches toward the quiver on her back and then her fingers curl into a fist as if she's decided to just punch me instead. I hold up a placating hand, not wishing to go into the oncoming fight bruised and battered by my supposed comrade.

Glimmer intervenes. "Don't you have anything better to do than antagonize the person who will shortly be watching your back? If you have a death wish, we can just get that out of the way right now!"

I roll my eyes at her and attempt a conciliatory tone. "I was only joking. Why so serious, ladies? This is the fun part."

Katniss looks at me in disbelief. "Fun part? Are you crazy?" She shakes her head and then answers for me. "Of course you're crazy. You volunteered to be here."

I can't stop the smug grin that crosses my face. "So did you, Girl on Fire. So did you."

Her narrowed eyes find mine and her tone drops to a frustrated hiss. "That's different and you know it."

"It's only different in your mind." I retort. "The end result is the same. We're here regardless of the reasons. We need to make the best of it."

She stops and glares at me, visibly grinding her teeth. "I just want to get his medicine. I don't have time for jokes or silly games. How are we going to do this?"

I realize that it's time to get down to business. She's not going to have it any other way. We stop and circle up. I look from one to the other and mentally rehearse what I'm about to say. It's the only way that I can think of to assure that one of us gets the medicine back to Peeta. "I'll hang back and intercept Thresh. I have the best chance of taking him. You two will have to handle Clove. I don't think that Foxface will try to fight. She hasn't so far. Go for the kill. Don't hesitate. As soon as you're able to get clear, head for the cave. We'll meet up there."

Katniss nods immediately. Glimmer stares hard at me, eyes weighing and measuring once more. She glances at Katniss and then nods reluctantly. I don't understand her hesitance. Did she honestly think that she could take on Thresh? My questioning look must catch her attention because she steps toward me while Katniss moves quickly away. She edges closer, her hand coming up to rest gently on my arm. "Are you sure? Your leg isn't fully healed. You might need help."

I grin at her with as much confidence as I can muster. "I can take him. Both of you will be needed to make sure Clove doesn't get our stuff. Don't worry about me." My hand covers hers and I squeeze her fingers slightly before letting go. "We have to go. It starts at dawn." She shakes her head in resignation but turns toward Katniss. The dark haired archer meets my eyes and she gives me a slight smile. I don't know what I've done, but whatever it was has gained her trust. I decide then and there that I will never understand girls. Laughing softly to myself, I follow them into the waning light.

We stop in an overgrown thicket that gives an excellent view of the plain and fissured Cornucopia. Glimmer and Katniss exchange an ironic look. Glimmer comments, "Here we are again." Katniss smirks briefly and then turns her gaze outward. She surveys the area like a predator looking for an easy target. Her fingers move unconsciously on the bow, tracing the contoured handle. I notice that Glimmer has eased her sword and is also running her fingers absently over the hilt. Both girls are on their toes, ready to move. Satisfied, I look quickly around in an attempt to locate the other tributes. A furtive movement draws my attention to the splintered mouth of the horn. I gesture wordlessly and Katniss leans forward shading her eyes as she tries to see through the gloom. The sun's first rays clear the tree line and bounce golden sparks off the edge of the Cornucopia. One of them catches a flash of copper where there shouldn't be. I crane my neck, trying to get a better angle on the horn's mouth, and see a tiny figure crouching just beyond the opening. Katniss lets out a startled curse and I know that she too has seen it. I tap her shoulder and she tosses a quick look backward.

"Foxface," I mouth quietly. She raises her brows and I gesture toward my hair. She nods then and turns back toward the horn. I nudge Glimmer and make a circling motion with my hand. "We need to cover the opposite side. That will be the easiest avenue of escape. One of you needs to grab the stuff and go. If you're followed, the others will try and head the pursuer off. If it's Clove, one of you will have to take her. If it's Thresh, I will take care of him. The object is to get the medicine back to Peeta. Don't take unnecessary chances. If you see a path, take it." Glimmer affirms the plan and I see Katniss do the same. The sun edges up over the horizon and a table slides into view. It had just snapped into place when a flash of coppery red darts from the Cornucopia. Foxface grabs the bag marked with her five and runs like hell toward the distant trees. Luckily for both her and our little trio, she heads away from the thicket where we are crouched. I tap both girls on the shoulder and as one; we step out.

Katniss readies an arrow, her eyes scanning as she sprints forward. Glimmer's sword is already out, her head moving side-to-side as she angles away from Katniss toward the back half of the horn. She's covering the side just as I told her to. I grin at the back of her head and position myself to cover the opposing direction. Between the three of us, we have every approach covered. Katniss makes it to the table and grabs the bags for twelve, one, and two. She slings the larger over her shoulder opposite the quiver of arrows and stuffs the tiny bag with twelve stamped on it into her front pocket. She visually marks both my location and Glimmer's and then runs around the side of the horn, disappearing from view. Glimmer breaks into a run and is soon out of my sight as she trails after Katniss. I clear the mouth and come around the side expecting to see the two forms heading for the trees. Instead, I face the hulking form of the District Eleven tribute and am standing between him and the bag that he's determined to acquire.

A shrill scream splits the air and I hesitate. I can't give him a clear shot at my back. He would surely kill me in a second. Besides, there are two of them. Surely between them, they will be able to handle Clove. She's lethal with a short blade but Katniss is just as deadly with her bow. I know that Glimmer is no slouch when it comes to handling her sword. I let out a frustrated breath and set myself. I'll have to get rid of Thresh and hope that I am fast enough to help the girls. This won't be easy. He's bigger than me and wields that scythe as an extension of his arm. I have to hit him before he can bring it into play. Otherwise, it will come down to trading blows. I can't guarantee that he won't get a few good swings in. I have to take him down hard and fast. It's my only option.

My short sword comes into my hands and I race toward him, my blade moving in a shallow arc that's aimed for his open side. It is a disabling blow, but if I can get him off his feet then I can finish him. He pivots at the last moment bringing his pack up to take the hit. His opposite arm veers toward me, the scythe turned to take off my head. I duck into him and my shoulder crashes into his chest. He stumbles back but manages to stay upright. He drops the pack and switches the edged blade to the opposing hand. I backpedal to find my balance and survey his form, looking for any opening. He taps his opposing foot and then feigns back. I can't help but sneer at the amateur maneuver. Only a complete idiot would fall for that. I ease my free hand into my belt and remove a slim knife that has a wicked double edge. It will cut from any angle. If I can get a clear way, I can do significant damage. I hold the blades low and tilted so that he won't be able to get inside my reach. I rest my weight on my back foot to keep my stance balanced. He gives up the attempted dodge and braces himself squarely with the scythe covering his vitals. Any sudden jab from me will be met with a return block. He doesn't have another blade but any opening will give him the chance to use his strength to his advantage. Whatever I'm going to do, I have to make it count.

I fake a thrust to the left and watch as he instinctively recoils turning his body away from my blade. My knife moves quickly into the void and his closed fist lands squarely on my hand. I tighten my fingers around the hilt to maintain my hold and backpedal until I'm out of easy reaching distance. He settles into his comfortable pose, arms close to his sides and the scythe tilted to cover his middle. We both size each other up, actively looking for any weakness. Another shrill screech echoes off the surrounding trees. I can't tell who the voice belongs to but it's more of an angry outburst than a sign of injury. I turn my attention back to Thresh in time to catch a parry. With his massive strength behind it, I have to brace my feet and put everything I have into turning the blow. Rather than meet him head on, I deflect him to the side and bring my blade up in the hopes of slipping it through. I feel the tip catch and a spray of scarlet betrays the hit that I have inadvertently landed. He grabs his arm and squeezes the cut. A brief moue of pain crosses his features. Apparently, I had cut him more deeply than I thought. He wipes his fingers on his jacket and reaches down. His scythe covers his head, blocking my chances of landing a crippling blow. He picks something up and cradles it in his opposite hand. I see the imprint left in the soft earth. He's acquired a good sided rock. If he manages to hit me with it, I'm a goner.

Biting my lip, I back off to study the situation. I've been trained since being able to walk for this. I know I can't meet him strength for strength. My edge is the training. It's what I have to depend on otherwise he will eventually wear me down and kill me. He's heavy on his feet. He holds his stance, not straying from it regardless of how I come at him. He is depending on his size and muscles to hold me back. Somehow I have to use that against him. I stamp feign to the left and watch as he shifts automatically to cover that side. I back off and study him again. The rock is curled in his left hand, the scythe in his right. He's holding it loosely with the thumb and middle finger overlapping. This might just give me the out that I need. I shift my sword to my left hand and my small knife in my right. I move lightly on the balls of my feet and edge closer to him, watching as he transfers his weight, altering his position briefly only to settle back into his familiar form. I've got him. He just doesn't know it yet.

I feign left yet again and he curves to meet my motion, keeping me centered. I pivot to the right. My sword hits his fist directly and his fingers spasm around the hilt; first tightening and then loosening. The scythe falls unhindered to the ground between us. He doesn't even attempt to retrieve it. He launches himself at me, hitting me squarely in the chest. I'm not prepared for the blow. I didn't expect him to forego the rock and engage me directly. I am forced to drop my sword to catch the rock mere inches from my face. All the momentum is in his favor and my arms tremble as they strain to keep him from landing a possibly fatal punch. I get my knees bent into his belly and kick outward. He rolls over my head and lands with a thud just behind me. I scramble to my knees in time to take a heavy fist to my temple. Stars dance across my vision and I fall forward, catching myself on my hands. The knife is still clinched in my fist but my sword is nowhere to be found. I curse as I shake my head roughly to clear it. If I don't get up, I'm dead.

I hear a muffled thud and look up in time to catch a fuzzy glimpse of a swinging blonde ponytail. "No," I yell but she's already on top of him, sword swinging. Her blade connects with his arm and I hear him grunt as the sword bites deep. He flails and I hear her cry out as the rock laden fist connects solidly with her ribs. A sharp crack echoes and I know that she's been hurt. I try to get up and assist but my head is still ringing from the earlier blow and I can't get to my feet. The canon booming penetrates the fog and I glance up. She's staggering as she rolls up onto her knees. He holds his arm but it's hanging loosely with blood rapidly darkening the torn sleeve. The look on his face is murderous. Before I can intervene, he picks up my abandoned sword and stabs her in the stomach. Her agonized scream cuts through me and my cry echoes hers. I'm on my feet and moving before I realize it.

He hears me coming. He can't miss it. I'm still shrieking even as I close the space between us. I hit him with everything I have left. He staggers and falls, the rock rolling free. Putting my knee into his chest, I reverse the knife and look him in the eye as my blade finds his neck. I don't hesitate. I push it in deep and open up his throat in one smooth motion. The blood flows freely, running warm and wet to pool in the dirt underneath him. I smile into his glassy eyes as I make another pass, further widening the already gaping hole. He coughs and the knife trembles in my grasp. I leave it stuck in his throat and watch as he blinks out his final minutes. The blood stains my sleeves and makes my hands tacky as I totter to my feet. I stumble to where she lies unmoving and kneel down. My hand sweeps her hair from her face and I lean forward until her eyes meet mine.

"I'll get you to the cave," I whisper. "We'll fix you up. Just hang on for me." To my amazement, she smiles. Her hand slides up my arm and grasps my fingers tightly. I let her pull me down until my breath stirs the shorter strands that frame her face.

"Not going to happen," she breathes. "I'm a goner. You and I both know it." Her hands squeeze mine briefly. "You should go before he comes to."

The canon sounding answers her before I can get the words out. "He's not going anywhere," I say pointlessly. She knows what that noise means as well as I do. I look around, seeing only an empty plain. My eyes meet hers and then I ask, "Where is Katniss? Did she get the supplies?"

She nods and coughs low in her throat. A shaky breath escapes and she winces as the motion pulls her wound. "We got Clove. She managed to cut Katniss on the forehead. I hit her from behind and knocked her down. Katniss got her with an arrow. She took my bag and hers and ran like hell. I saw her enter the trees." Her hand spasms in my grasp as the injury gapes open with every shift and change in position. "Damn that hurts!" She grates. "He hit my gut. The worse fucking spot!" Her breath hitches and her fingers continuously shake.

"Lay still. You're only making it worse." I scold her. "You need to keep up your strength. I'll get you patched up and we'll head back." She shakes her head wordlessly in denial which I ignore. "Don't give me that shit, Glimmer. We will make it."

"Cato," she whispers. "I'm already dead. You can't help me. Just go while you still can." A hoarse moan escapes her lips and her hand clamps involuntarily on mine.

"Why did you do that? I told you to get the stuff and head back. Why did you take him on?" I continue to stroke her hair away from her forehead. My hands are shaking almost as hard as hers but I can't let go. I won't let go.

"You know why," her eyes meet mine intently. "You would have done it for me."

I nod in agreement. I would have done it for her. The wound doesn't bleed as much as I would expect but the flesh and muscle beneath is ripped and torn. "What can I do? What do you need me to do?" I question. "Please tell me. Let me do something."

She bites her lip and winces as she shifts again. The pain must be excruciating. She gives no visible sign except for the occasional moan and silent tears. "End it," She gasps out. "Let me go. It hurts. Please just end it."

"Glimmer," I whisper. "Are you sure?" She nods and her gaze meets mine squarely. I close my eyes and feel an almost unbidden sense of defeat. I had failed her. I had vowed to protect them both. Instead, she had saved me. She was dying and it was my fault. I felt myself breaking. It was my fault. Her hands tighten on mine, forcing me to open my eyes and look at her. "Are you sure?" I ask again. She smiles slightly and nods. "Okay." I say, feeling my skin crawl as I make yet another promise to the girl I've already broken too many promises to. "Okay."

I retrieve the knife from Thresh and wipe it on his pants before making my way back to her side. Her eyes follow me and she swallows noisily as the light catches the blade's edge. "We don't have to do this. There's got to be another way," I offer once more. She shakes her head, eyes fixed on the knife. I sigh quietly and thread her fingers with mine. "Are you ready?" She gives me a brief nod and a reassuring squeeze to our intertwined hands. I notice droplets on her cheeks and swipe them carefully away. She smiles and that's when I know what the liquid is. My tears are flowing freely and falling onto her face. I realize then what Peeta has been telling me all along. Sometimes, things sneak up on you when you least expect them. I can't fathom what it would be like to be in his shoes. My heart leaps into my throat and simultaneously breaks into.

I position the knife and meet her gaze. I make no attempt to stop crying. She deserves each and every tear. I owe her my life, but I will give her something more even as I take everything else away. I lean close and kiss her, letting my lips linger. I pull back and meet her stare as the knife slides in. She stiffens and her breath catches as the veins and artery lets go, a rush of liquid warmth flowing over my hand. I drop the knife and take her other hand in mine, my eyes never leaving hers. She blinks, breath seizing and stumbling. The green eyes haze as she begins to slip away. Her fingers go slack in my grip. I kiss her with tears rolling in a continuous stream down my face. The words slip out before I can stop them…and then I don't want to stop them. I mean them with everything I have. "I love you," I whisper softly. "I love you. Don't be afraid. I'll see you soon."

Her eyes widen and she gives a final sigh before they close. Her hand falls free and I catch it, holding it to my face as I watch her go. My heart feels like it's splitting into a million pieces. I curse Peeta Mellark yet again. I curse the Games and I curse myself. I sit with her as the sun climbs into the sky and the cannon sounds. I move away only when the mockingjay whistles a warning that the hovercraft has arrived. Before rising, I kiss her one final time and step away. The clamp lowers and the body is picked carefully up. As she leaves the Arena for the final time, I do something that I've only seen one time previously. The first night in the Training Center, I watched the Reaping recap with Clove and my mentor. When Katniss ascended the stage, her entire district defied convention and gave her a loving sendoff. They gave her a final goodbye. It is this memory that moves me now. I raise three fingers to my lips and kiss them, then extend my arm toward her. I hold the gesture until the hovercraft rises from sight. Then I turn, retrieve my weapons and bag from the feast, and make my way toward the cave.

End Part 10

A/N This chapter really broke my heart to write. I hope that you enjoy it. This story has been something of a beast to write. I've enjoyed expanding on Cato's character. I hope that I've done him justice. Review and let me know what you think. There are about two chapters left. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favorite this story. Until next time…Salanderjade.


	11. Regrets and Repentance

Oh, Please (A Cato Story)

A/N Events in canon have been twisted to fit story needs. This one is dedicated to LizaLovesPeeta, a wonderful reader who leaves some of the loveliest reviews.

***mithril comes from The Lord of the Rings trilogy by JRR Tolkien. It is a lightweight indestructible armor that was created by elves. It seemed an apt choice to include in this chapter. All credit goes to Mr. Tolkien for the magical mithril. Credit for The Hunger Games goes to Suzanne Collins.

Chapter 11: Regrets and Repentance

Coriolanus Snow was not a happy man. Often the President was forced to walk the manicured paths of his garden, tending to the myriad blooms while he pondered the fate of untold thousands. The Games was the sharpest tool in the arsenal that the Capital used to keep the less fortunate in line. The price paid in innocent blood each year didn't cause President Snow to lose a moment's sleep. It was the Capital's due and he spared no expense in the collection of the debt. When something interfered with his pomp and circumstance, Snow's wrath fell with the speed of a striking snake. Seldom did he move openly, nor did he issue a warning from his own mouth lightly. However in the case of the errant tributes, Head Games maker Seneca Crane needed to have the gravity of the situation stressed as only Snow could.

He was seated on a stone bench surrounded by magnificent pale blooms which stood out starkly against its backdrop of emerald foliage. Seneca Crane bent his head deferentially and waited with folded hands for the President to enlighten him as to why he had been pulled away from the Games at this critical juncture. The icy, pallid gaze of the long time ruler of Panem studied the younger man before him, allowing the silence to stretch out painfully until the Games maker's feet began to shift uneasily. Snow let the tension build until a noticeable tracing of sweat was visible on Crane's forehead. Smiling slightly as the acrid scent of fear mixed with the cloying perfume of the roses, Snow allowed himself a tolerant smile. He was primed for a polite conversation which would illustrate the importance of the path that the Games had taken thus far. The spark must be contained. The throngs silenced. The perpetrators punished or rebuked,

"Seneca, thank you for coming so quickly. I have some concerns that I wished to discuss with you." His smile meant to soothe, instead caused the hair to rise on the nervous man's neck. A visible swallow bobbed Crane's neck, one more outward sign that this youth was essentially unfit for the exalted position he currently held. Unless he managed to convince Snow of his talents, there would be a search for a suitable replacement at the conclusion of this year's Games. "I have some concerns about the current direction that the Games are taking. It seems that we have an unorthodox alliance that persists despite all attempts to quell it. The Capital is not known for its patience, Seneca. What is our current assessment?"

Crane took the proffered chair. He offered up a faltering smile and quickly asserted, "The Feast was quite successful, sir. We are down to the final four tributes. We have several avenues available to us at this point to bring about a most exciting finale. I think that you will be very pleased with our plans." Snow raised a skeptical brow but gestured for the Games maker to continue. "We have yet to make use of any designer alternatives. We have manufactured several prime specimens that will facilitate a speedy resolution. You won't be disappointed."

Snow's resigned head shake was not quite the response that Seneca Crane was hoping for. He perused the anxious man with an unconcealed pitying expression on his face. "Do you realize what you have allowed to happen? Never in seventy-three years has this occurred. Our most loyal supporters come from District Two. There are also a considerable number which come from District One. It is important that the ties these two key districts have with the Capital remain strong. To see them so lightly disregarded is troubling. District Twelve is inconsequential. They have nothing that we need. We continue to use the coal they dredge up but it is no longer a necessity. For a couple of trifling children from our most pitiable district to have swayed the allegiance of a boy from one of the best families in District Two, it is unpardonable. It cannot continue. Do I make myself clear, Seneca?"

Crane's brow furrowed but he nodded all the same. The lack of understanding was readily apparent. He asked carefully, "Would it be sufficient to arrange a gathering that they don't have an option to refuse? Given the proper motivation, their alliance will be forgotten soon enough. "

Snow gave him a vaguely approving look. "That would indeed give them good reason to rethink this little partnership that they've concocted. I don't believe that it will be enough to turn the tide but it is a good start. You must not only erase it from their minds but obliterate it even if you have to wipe out every single one of them to do it. Panem is only as strong as the weakest brick in her foundation. We must preserve our glorious relationships with those fortunate enough to enjoy our benevolence. You hold the keys in your hands to safeguard the auspices of the Capital. Failure is not something that we will gracefully accept, Seneca. This will be your finest hour should you pass this test. If not, then I must put my faith in another who is no doubt plotting his ascendancy as we speak. Who should it be? Plutarch Heavensby perhaps? I like you. You have done well these last few years. It would be most unfortunate if you should throw all of that away. I trust I have made my wishes perfectly clear."

Seneca Crane clearly heard the not so veiled threat. He mentally cursed the folly of listening to others when they protested that this alliance was the key to the most exciting conclusion in the history of the Games. He had seen his name in the history books, celebrated amongst the finest and most revered of Panem's heroes. He had allowed himself to be blinded. That mistake could cost him dearly. Mentally reviewing the various strategies available to him, Crane made a split second decision. His confidence renewed, Crane met the President's intense stare for the first time unafraid. "I will deal with this personally, President Snow. You have my word. This alliance will be severed and the Victor crowned."

Snow plucked a blossom from the bush behind him, admiring the anemic petals. He carefully affixed it to his lapel and made sure it was straight and centered before securing the clasp. He glanced at Crane and softly espoused, "I don't react well to empty platitudes and banality. I will be watching. Keep that in mind. I want a Victor who will bear out our most cherished ideals. I will settle for nothing less."

Crane assented and hastily made his courtesies before taking his leave. He flipped his communicator open and keyed a specific code. The terminal hummed for a moment then beeped its acknowledgement. Seneca Crane sighed resignedly. He had made his play. He could only watch and wait to see if the remaining four would take the bait and walk into the trap he had so carefully laid for them.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The path back to the cave is torturous. Each step draws the knot tighter in my stomach. It rests on me like a millstone. I have failed. For the first time in my life, I have not succeeded in a goal that I set for myself. All the medals and accolades heaped upon me my whole life have faded to bitter ashes in my mouth. She is dead and it is my fault. I shed her blood and watched as the light faded from her eyes. It was an act of mercy. Better that than to leave her suffering and in pain. The memory of those wide emerald eyes as the confession fell from my lips haunts me. I had no intention of declaring myself in such a fashion when I knelt to end her life. I only wanted to do the right thing. Something pulled those words from me without thinking. I know that they are true. I spoke from the heart. Once again, I curse Peeta Mellark. I throw a couple in for Katniss just to be fair. The two of them together had changed me irrevocably.

I pause in a convenient clearing and pry open the pack from the Feast, curious as to what the Capital thought I needed desperately. My hand catches on a lightweight material that slides like water through my fingers. Pulling it from the pack, my eyes confirm what my fingers have already hinted at. We call it mithril at the academy. It is the specialized armor that Peacekeepers wear under their uniforms when going to an area of engagement. It is made of a thin, silvery metal that is very comfortable to wear. It's practically weightless and extremely durable. No edged weapon can penetrate it. Most projectiles will bounce harmlessly aside. Even gunnery has a difficult time landing a fatal blow.

My mind immediately catalogues every possible avenue of attack that would necessitate the use of such an offering. Most of the weapons had been destroyed when that idiot had tripped the mines. No knife or sword could have survived the heat and concussive effects of the blast. There were no guns in the Arena. That was a pity. I suppose that it wouldn't be much of a fight to the death if you could pick off your targets from two hundred yards away. The only logical explanation is to protect me from a bow and arrows wielded by an expert marksman. I can't help but smile. They expect the alliance to break. They will want a spectacular finale. By giving me this equipment, they have ensured that the only way she will be able to kill me is to aim for the head. I give an amused snort at this prospect. She will only take that action if I threaten her or her greatest ally. Once more, it all comes down to Peeta Mellark. My behavior at the Cornucopia is coming back to haunt me with a vengeance. They will not stop until they get their Victor. I know it won't be enough to merely have one tribute standing. They will force us to face off. Our blood being spilled in the most grisly fashion that the Games makers can devise is the only acceptable outcome.

I'm drawn from my reverie by a torrent of water that plasters my hair to my forehead. My clothes quickly become waterlogged and hang heavily. Those bastards have a sick sense of humor. They force us into a bloodbath for a handout that could have easily been provided by a sponsor. They fling fireballs, set raging wildfires, dry up streams, and sent cloud-busting downpours if things aren't going according to plan. Unfortunately, I have determined that the Games makers are sadistic fucks. I'm tempted to make a rude gesture that earned me the only beating that I ever received from my father. I had broken his cherished plaque that he had received during his Victory Tour. The glass statuette had been handcrafted by one of the finest artisans in District One. My brother and I were playing in my father's study. I slipped and grabbed onto the closest available thing to maintain my balance. The statue sat close to the edge and upon impact; had shattered completely. He had been deaf to any excuse and had punished me extensively for my transgression. I feel like the Games makers are taking the same route as my father did. They are punishing us for not playing along.

Feeling frustration boiling over, I mentally say to hell with it all and then scoot further back into the trees. The leaves hold off the worst of the downpour. I dig out a thin sheet of plastic from my pack and fashion a makeshift canopy over my head to give me a modicum of cover. I look around carefully and spot a slightly darker area close to the base of a cluster of trees. Deciding that I can't get much wetter than I already am, I make my way toward the partially concealed opening. It is a shallow alcove that has hollowed out the trunk of a large oak. By bending my knees and tucking them close to my chest, I am able to squeeze inside. The worst of the rain can't penetrate the cave so I am given a brief respite. Shifting uncomfortably in my wet gear, I line the floor with the plastic sheeting and put the pack that contained the mithril over it giving me a dry seat. After retrieving some of the dried beef and fruit and a half-filled water bottle, I settle in to wait out the deluge.

_The dream is hazy and indistinct. The background is murky and undefined. A shadow detaches itself and moves slowly in my direction. I tense out of habit and my hand reaches instinctively for my sword. I know I'm not safe here regardless of my weapons or training. They know everything about me-favorite fighting strategies, weapons specialties, even the esoteric styles that my father had taught me as a child. Despite this, I make myself ready to face whatever is coming. An improbable glow illuminates the form. It is small, slight and moves with a certain grace. Behind the first, another blob separates itself from the surrounding gloom. This one angles off to my left; the original slips right. I cannot cover both but shift my stance so that I can keep a loose eye on each of them. "You let me die," the smaller of the two hisses vehemently. "You abandoned one of your own to be slaughtered and stood by as that useless bitch shot me down." The other continues to sidle to my right. There is something familiar about the way it moves and the indeterminate details that are vaguely discernible in the murk. A flipping swaying mass soon reveals itself to be a ponytail. My breath catches in my throat as my eyes meet a familiar pair colored emerald green._

_I shake my head and shrink back, my feeble attempts at avoidance somewhat laughable. Her eyes lock on mine and she reaches a cold, pale hand toward my face. I shy away but she persists until an alabaster finger touches my cheek and threads itself into my hair. "You let me die. You broke your word," she whispers. My head begins to shake frantically and a dispassionate smile curls her lips. "Better to be dead than loved by you. Your promises are worthless. I never should have trusted you. I should have killed you when I had the chance."_

_I feel warmth as tears trace a path down my cheeks and drip off my chin. Her cool palm cups my jaw and she swipes them away gently. "I didn't want to hurt you. I would have taken your place if I could. I asked you not to interfere. I could have taken him. I didn't know it would turn out like this." My shaking knees barely hold me upright as I continue to meet her vacant, frigid stare. "Please, Glimmer. Please. I meant what I said. Every word. Please. I love you."_

_Her eyes flare briefly with a singular emotion that I can't place. She presses her fingers more deeply into my flesh, almost to the point of pain. I lean into it, basking in a touch that I should be making every effort to avoid. She smiles softly and the weak light catches a glint of metal as she applies more pressure. My eyes widen as I catch a glimpse of razor sharp nails that scrape my skin as she skims my jawline and traces my throat. "I love you too. That's why you must join me. I don't want to be alone anymore." They dig into my throat before I can dislodge her hand. I feel the skin tearing and the blood soaking into my shirt as she rips into me. The hot jab as a knife enters my back is negligible as her fingers work their way further and further into the column of my throat. She hooks a finger around the small lump of cartilage that bobs with my frantic swallows. I open my mouth to scream and she drops a light kiss on the tip of my nose as she tears it free. What would have been painful shrieks comes out instead as gasps and pants. I will never scream again._

My eyes open and my hands immediately seek out my throat. Finding unbroken skin, I let out a sigh of relief. I still run my fingers over my neck to convince myself that I am indeed unharmed. My heart pounds and my breath comes short as the dream bears down. She blames me for her death. She knows that I failed. She knows that I broke one promise but expects me to keep another. I had vowed to see her soon. I cough involuntarily and my fingers seek out my throat one more time. I have a premonition that somehow I have been given the means to my end. "See you soon," I breathe out. Her face shimmers and a smile curls her lip. I return it and nod soberly.

The rain had tapered off overnight leaving a fresh green smell in the air. The faint orange tinted light seems to outline every leaf and branch as I crawl out of my cave and ease my way through the brush. I had only walked a short distance when the booming of a canon brings my head up sharply. Red hair and a thin pale face shine briefly in the sky. One down, three to go. I can hear voices dimly through the trees and alter my direction toward them. "She was clever," Katniss' voice echoes off the surrounding trees. "Too clever," Peeta chimes in. I can't help but grin when I hear his voice. The medicine had done its work. For him to be in the woods, his leg must be almost back to normal. Otherwise, Katniss would still have him confined. My greeting dies on my lips as a low growl catches my attention.

It sounds close by and my eyes search the myriad greenery looking for the source. My gaze stops on a low gap in the surrounding brush. What steps into view steals my breath. It's waist high and quadruped in form. The fur is pale gold and the eyes that find mine spark into emerald flames. "Glimmer," I choke out and the beast releases another guttural snarl. The mutt drops into a crouch and then leaps toward me. Claws take a swipe at my gut and I pivot away, dodging the razor sharp claws by mere inches. I hit the ground and roll back to my feet already moving to put as much distance as possible between myself and the monstrosity. It hunkers again and leaps for my back. I drop to let it pass by overhead and feel a brief sensation of weight before she lands with a thud just beyond me. My shirt hangs in tatters and I sweep a hand over the rips expecting them to come away red. Instead, my fingers skip over the mithril. I silently give thanks to whatever deity is responsible for this valuable gift. Palming the hilt of my sword, I get my feet underneath me and dart off into the undergrowth. I head for my allies, hoping that the foliage hadn't distorted the direction too much.

I can hear the branches breaking as large bodies push them aside in their eagerness to reach their prey. I force myself to run faster, not daring to glance back. I hear them coming and they are gaining. My only chance is to head for the high ground. The closest safe haven is the Cornucopia. Peeta and Katniss had been going in that direction. I can only trust that they will figure out what is going on before it is too late. There can only be one Victor. But, I'll be damned if this is the end. I run as I've never run before. In the distance, the golden glint of the Cornucopia beckons. The final confrontation is at hand. Something tells me that dead by morning might be the best that I can hope for.

End Part 11


	12. Not Quite Enemies, Not Quite Friends

Oh, Please (A Cato Story)

A/N Thank you to all the lovely readers who have come along with me on this little journey! Cato has been a fun character to write. I hope that you enjoy the final chapter. Thanks so much for reading!

Epilogue: Not Quite Enemies, Not Quite Friends

The train pulled out the Capital station and with its departure, came the end of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. For the first time, two Victors had been crowned. The citizens of the Capital celebrated the star-crossed lovers who were now free to enjoy their happily ever after. Many sighed joyfully at the final images of them boarding the train hand in hand, waving to the adoring crowds that had gathered to see them off. The two had stood in the open rear car and waved until the train entered the tunnel through the mountains. The throng dispersed slowly. Some with hands pressed to their hearts, others wiped a wayward tear. The Capital was enchanted with the pair from District Twelve and watching them fall in love had resulted in one of the most popular Games in years.

Peeta Mellark dropped his hand and leaned heavily on the railing. Katniss watched as he tiredly rubbed his eyes and stretched the taut muscles in his shoulders and back. "I'll be glad to get back home. Won't you?" he questioned. She nodded as she slid onto one of the plush sofas situated beneath the panoramic windows. He shot her an uneasy look and then dropped into a seat facing her. He bit his lip as he watched her warily. "Katniss, I wanted to talk to you privately about what will happen when we get home. I just wanted to let you know…."

"Peeta," she interrupted. "You don't have to say anything."

His blue eyes were clouded as he took her hand. "I do have to say something. I started this whole thing with my interview. I pulled you into something that you didn't ask for. I can't ask you to pretend to be something you're not." He swallowed noisily. "You have people back home waiting for you. People you care about. You should be happy. It's what I want more than anything. For you to be happy. It's all I've ever wanted."

She looked at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "You should be happy too. You deserve it more than anyone." She pulled her hand free and clasped them together tightly in her lap. "You've always helped me when I needed it most."

Peeta essayed a tentative smile. "I guess that's what we do, isn't it? We watch out for each other and protect each other." She smiled back briefly and cleared her throat. He opened his mouth to continue but her fingers pressed to his lips stopped further speech. He made a few more attempts but she stubbornly refused to move her hand. He rolled his eyes but finally sat quietly and waited for whatever she had in mind.

"You said that I have people waiting for me at home. So do you, Peeta. Your dad and your brothers will be thrilled to see you. All of your friends will be there." She flushed uncomfortably. "I'll have my mom and Prim. Of the two of us, you'll definitely be the one more people are happy to see." His mouth opened again only to snap shut at her quelling look. "You're going to bring up Gale. It doesn't matter but I want you to know the truth. He's my friend, Peeta, and my hunting partner. He's not my boyfriend. He doesn't like me that way and I never wanted him to. I don't have time for that stuff."

His eyes widened and he stilled as those words sank in. No boyfriend? What? His confusion shone clearly on his face. She blushed more profusely and began a furious examination of the hem of her skirt. "I thought that you and Gale were together," he said slowly. "He's always around. Your families are close."

"Peeta," she sighed. "He's my hunting partner. We get a better haul working together. It helps me feed Prim and mom. That's it. I never wanted anything serious. I had to take care of Prim. Gale knows that." Her gray eyes swung up to meet his and then dropped back to her knotted hands. He reached for one hesitantly and clasped it between both of his. She felt his hand tremble and her brow furrowed. "What's wrong? You're shaking."

He bit his lip and pushed the words out through a suddenly dry throat. "Why tell me now? What does it matter?"

She chewed absently on a bottom lip while toying nervously with his fingers. "I don't know. It doesn't matter but I wanted you to know. It mattered to me." She dropped his hands and wound her own fingers tightly together once more in her lap. He could only stare in open-mouthed surprise at her announcement. He hadn't expected her to say that and she clearly hadn't intended on being so blunt.

Peeta sat floundering as he tried to figure out where to go from there. She had said she didn't have time for a relationship but then made it resoundingly clear that he knew she wasn't in one. "Nothing about these Games has turned out like I thought it would," he commented futilely. She looked at him, brows raised questioningly. Shrugging, he elaborated, "I didn't expect to be coming home. I didn't expect to win and have the world think that we will live happily ever after. I was expecting Gale to kick my ass when we get home for messing with his girlfriend." She chuckled quietly and returned the grin he sent her. "I just never thought things would work out like this."

She toyed idly with the end of her braid and glanced at him almost shyly. "You don't know the effect you can' have."

He rolled his eyes and pushed his overlong bangs back off his forehead. They defied him and promptly fell back into his eyes. She laughed at his disgruntled expression. "You're stealing my best lines now," he teased gently.

She snorted, "Well, I have to. I told you before that I'm not good at saying stuff. I didn't think you would mind."

His expression sobered. "I don't think that anything I did was all that extraordinary. I just did what I had to. I didn't intend for any of this to happen." His invective was cut short as he caught a glimpse of her disbelieving face. "Why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong?"

Her face reddened but she stubbornly met his gaze. "You really don't know, do you? Peeta, it's not your actions, it's you. Don't you know how good you are? You're so different from everyone else. You're just good all the way through. It brings out the best in people around you." She swallowed briefly. "You are just good."

Peeta grinned at her disjointed comments. "You said that already. Katniss, I appreciate everything that you're trying to do. I'm nothing special. I'm just me. "

She shook her head, "If that were true, how do you explain Cato? He was a Career, Peeta. He shouldn't have thought twice about killing you and me. He could have been the winner so easily but he chose to help instead. That's partly why we're both still standing."

Peeta turned his gaze to the windows, studying the swiftly passing landscape. His mind couldn't help but return to that last frantic dash toward the Cornucopia with the mutts hot on their heels. He felt a wave of guilt rush through him as the memories swept him up. He should have been dead. There was no doubt in Peeta's mind that if it hadn't been for Cato, the mutts would have ripped him to shreds. Peeta blinked a sudden rush of tears back. It wasn't the first time that he wished things were different. He couldn't bear to think that someone deliberately died so that he could live. The more he thought about events of that morning, the more convinced he was that was what had happened.

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_ The noise that large bodies made crashing through branches and brush was unmistakable. Katniss turned toward him, her eyes wide and anxious. "Move," she exclaimed and pushed him ahead of her. She had an arrow nocked and ready but didn't pause to look around. She bounded after him through the undergrowth, running blindly toward the distant Cornucopia. "Move, Peeta!" She yelled again. _

_ They blundered through the last few barriers and floundered onto the flat plain surrounding the Cornucopia and abutting the lake. Peeta staggered on his injured leg and struggled to keep his footing. Katniss paused, slipping a supporting arm around him and they moved together in the direction of the gleaming horn. Hearing rapidly approaching footsteps behind them, Peeta glanced back and gasped as Cato broke through the trees. The blonde boy was running as if he had been going for a while. He was breathing heavily and sweat poured down his face and plastered his hair and clothing. Peeta's steps faltered as he caught a glimpse of what followed Cato into the clearing. The massive forms had a wolf like appearance and moved with eerie, unnerving grace. Cato stumbled slightly and Peeta turned to help him. Katniss cursed and pulled her bow back, loosening an arrow into the closest one. The mutt howled and collapsed. Another of the ghastly figures twisted and then savagely tore into its fallen brethren. _

_ Peeta ran the last few steps and grasped Cato's arm. "Are you fucking crazy?" Cato exploded. "Go before they kill us all." He shoved Peeta before him and then tugged a wickedly curved blade from his belt. The two boys began running once more, heads turning to follow the massive shapes that circled and tracked their movements. Katniss continued to take out convenient targets. Her aim was as unerring as ever; each arrow finding an eye or throat. She managed to take out the closest ones but others emerged from the trees. She took one last shot and then sprinted after the men. She quickly overtook them and was the first to begin climbing. Peeta reached the horn just behind her and swiftly shimmied up. His feet slipped and slid as he clamored up the side. She reached the top and turned, reaching a hand down to help. Cato skidded to a halt and then turned to track the mutts that were still trailing behind them. He cupped his hands and allowed Peeta to place his foot into them and then levered him up. Peeta dropped beside of Katniss, breathing heavily, and spun on his belly as he reached his hand over the side. Cato grabbed hold and began climbing hastily as the mutts clustered below him. Katniss gasped causing Peeta to glance her way. "What?" He bit out. "What is it?" She shook her head and gestured toward the mutts, her jaw working silently. It was Cato who answered, his voice hoarse and labored as he levered himself up the side of the horn. _

_ "They are the dead tributes," he gasped. "Everybody that's died." _

_ Peeta noted the varying fur and eyes on the massive shapes that paced and growled below them. He looked at the smallest of them with its dark hair and doe brown eyes and then looked hurriedly at Katniss. Her face was drained of color, lips pressed into a thin line. He quietly spoke, "It's not her, Katniss. It's not her." She nodded and readied another arrow. Peeta curled both of his hands around Cato's and pulled with everything he had. Cato grunted as his feet scrambled for a foothold on the slippery surface. Two or three mutts paced beneath him, their eyes fixed on his ascending form. Peeta scooted back from the edge, pulling the other boy up with him. A sudden scream and increase in weight let him know what was happening even before Katniss called out and loosed an arrow into yet another mutt. _

_ Peeta slid to the edge of the horn, digging his heels in as he tried to find purchase. Katniss dropped yet another mutt with a well-placed arrow. "I've got you," Peeta burst out. "Stab the bastard and pull yourself up." His fingers tightened on Cato's arm and he tugged as hard as he could. The shriek that exploded from the District Two tribute startled Peeta, who then clamped down more tightly on Cato's fingers. "I've got you," he grated out. "Stab it. Katniss, can you help him?" She shifted closer to the edge, trying to get a better angle. Cato palmed his knife and stabbed down. A sharp yelp gave proof that his blade had found its mark. Another shift in weight accompanied a loosening grip. "Don't you do it!" Peeta shouted. "Don't let go! Please. Katniss, help me." Cato smiled up at them, his gaze tracking from one to the other. He momentarily tightened his fingers on Peeta's, whispered a few words that Peeta didn't catch, and then twisted his hand free. "No," Peeta cried. Cato tumbled to the ground, the mutts immediately surrounding him. Katniss slid her arm around Peeta's shoulders and pulled him back from the edge. His tears flowing freely, he turned and buried his face in her shoulder. She hushed him, her hand smoothing his hair. She hissed as she took notice of the blood running down his leg. She widened the tear in his pants and winced when she saw the jagged gash that had been ripped into his calf. _

_ "What happened?" She breathed out. "What cut you?" _

_ He shook his head, "The edge of the horn got me as I was climbing. Is it bad?" He twisted his leg to look at it for himself. The blood soaked into his boot and saturated his pants leg. Her fingers probed the wound and she bit her lip. "Can you fix it?" He asked._

_ She slid out of her jacket and quickly doffed her shirt before pulling the covering back over her shaking limbs. She twined the shirt into a bandage and grabbed an arrow from her quiver. She swiftly tied the bandage on and inserted the arrow through the knot. She whispered, "I'm sorry. This is the only way." He smiled gently and nodded. Seeing that, she twirled the arrow until the bandage tightened and the blood flow ceased. It was several hours later that the arrow was freed from the bandage and used to send the last tribute home. _

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The brief jostling of the train pulled him from his reverie. He looked up and met a pensive gray gaze studying him intently. "He let go," Peeta whispered. "He let go. He could have made it. He could have outrun me but he didn't. He helped me every way that he could." He looked at her beseechingly. "Please tell me that he didn't die for me. Make me believe it."

She smiled sadly and reached a hand up to gently caress his face. "I think he made his choice and then acted on it. I think he died on his terms and not on the Games makers. I think that you made a difference in his life just as you did mine." She reached for his hand and he gladly intertwined their fingers. "Don't second guess yourself. You're not to blame for anything. He was your friend, Peeta. Remember that."

He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. "I love you, Katniss." He murmured. She didn't answer but drew him more tightly against her and rested her head on the place where his heart beat steadily. She silently mouthed her thanks to those responsible for that heart still beating beneath her ear. She may not be able to say the words yet, but the truth was glaringly obvious even to her. She loved him. This good, kind, selfless boy had made a friend out of an enemy and brought love into a place where death usually reigned. The future was unknown and uncertain, but at this moment Katniss Everdeen was sure of one thing. Peeta Mellark was supposed to be in her life. He was a part of her as much as Prim or Gale. How those pieces fit together wasn't clear yet but the fact remained. She loved him and he loved her. That, in the end, was everything.

FINIS OH PLEASE (A CATO STORY)

THANKS FOR READING.

SALANDERJADE


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